


Markers Must Always Be Honored

by your_chaotic_little_sibling



Category: John Wick (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Assassin Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles Xavier is a Sweetheart, Continental Hotel (John Wick), Dad John Wick, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, Howlette brothers, John Wick - Freeform, Other, Peter is a Little Shit, Pietro Maximoff Goes by Peter, Post-X-Men Origins: Wolverine (2009), Protective Logan (X-Men), Slow Burn, Sweet Kurt Wagner, X Mansion, mutant john wick, sabretooth is domestic, seeking sanctuary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 45,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_chaotic_little_sibling/pseuds/your_chaotic_little_sibling
Summary: John Wick never wanted this for his daughter, but at least when push comes to shove, she'll have a safe place to stay.An AU where John Wick is a mutant and used to work with Erik Lehnsherr. John has a marker against Erik and wants Blake to have a safe place to stay while his open contract is open, but what happens when Blake seems to get too close?
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Kitty Pryde/Kurt Wagner, Pietro Maximoff/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 83
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

It was raining again. It had been raining for the past week, and it wasn't supposed to stop until Thursday. Honestly, I liked the rain. It helped me go to sleep, it was fun to play in, and it was very easy to hide in, especially when it's pouring down rain and everyone on the street has an umbrella.

Currently, my father and I were walking together through the rain. I had a bag on my back stuffed with clothes and a switchblade my dad gave me. Guns weren't allowed on school property, but Dad wanted me to have a weapon just in case. We knew how dangerous it was for me in this world, with or without my father. That was worth breaking a few rules.

"Dad?" I asked, looking at him from under my hood. He looked down at me to show that he was listening. "When will I see you again?"

He sighed softly. "Soon," he promised. "I will come back for you. It's dangerous right now, Blake."

"I know: the open contract. It's my fault you had to kill that man, Dad. I'm sorry," I apologized, turning my head so that the rain didn't get in my eyes. He put his hand on my shoulder.

"It's not you fault, kid."

We got to the front steps of the institution I was staying at. It was for people like me and Dad. Not assassins, no, a different breed of human. Mutants. I had found out about my powers not long after my thirteenth birthday, and now, at fifteen, I could control them better than ever before. 

I looked back at the car, where Dog was sitting calmly in the backseat. I would miss him. "He'll be staying at the Continental," Dad promised. I nodded softly and knocked on the door. "I know you're safer here than there."

"I don't agree, Dad," I said softly as I pulled my hood down. There was a small cover for the front door so we wouldn't get any more soaked than before. "No business can be conducted on the Continental grounds. No one could hurt me there."

He shook his head with a quiet sigh. "Blake, some people don't give a shit about the rules, especially for 14 million dollars. This is the last place they'll look for you. You won't be hurt here."

I didn't reply but just nodded slightly. I knew he was right. No one ever thought John Wick was a mutant. He bled like a human, fought like a human. His mutation is invisible, just like mine. We keep our mutations very secret. 

The door was opened by a lanky man in a lab coat. "Can I help you?"

Dad pulled out a small, round metal case: a marker. "Let me speak to Erik Lehnsherr. We have some things to talk about," he said, narrowing his eyes at the man at the door.

"Um, right this way," the man said, letting us in and shutting the door behind us. "I'm Hank McCoy."

I looked around. We were in a large lobby, with a couple kids sitting there doing homework. They all looked up at me and Dad for a minute as he replied. "John Wick. This is Blake, my daughter."

"Nice to meet you," Hank said as he led us down a hallway. Dad walked with his usual proud stature right beside him, while I walked behind him. I had more of a calm walk, but I still held myself tall. I had always been told that people will always take advantage of those who are weaker, and that I should never be weak like that.

Hank knocked on a door. "Professors? There's someone here to talk to Erik. Are you decent?"

"Yes!" Called a british voice from inside. It sounded a bit flustered but maybe that was just from Hank's question. "Come in, Hank."

I followed them in and saw two men sitting across from each other, playing chess. One of them was sitting back with his legs spread slightly, his tall, lean figure covered completely in a black turtleneck and dark jeans. His eyes were cold and hard, like he had been through hell, and his face was set. The other was the polar opposite. He was smaller. His blue eyes were soft and gentle, and he had a sweater vest over a white button up with black slacks to match the outfit. He was also in mechanical wheelchair. "Hello," the smaller one said. "I'm Charles Xavier, and this is my husband Erik Lehnsherr. Could we help you?"

"Could we have a moment with Erik alone?" Dad asked, looking down at the disabled man. He didn't seem so sure and looked to Erik, wanting his opinion on the matter. After a moment, the taller one nodded and motioned towards the door.  
"Let's go, Hank. I need to check on Alex anyway," Charles said suspiciously, wheeling out of the room.

Dad looked down at me with the 'be quiet' look before glancing at Erik. "I told you to never come looking for me again, Wick," Lenhsherr said.

"You owe me," Dad replied, looking at Erik with that fire in his eyes that usually meant he wasn't joking around.

"After 13 years? I don't owe you shit. I have a life here, John, and I will not let you fuck that up for me," the man said harshly. "Sit down."

Dad nodded to an extra chair at a nearby table for me to sit in while he sat where Charles used to, since Erik had pulled him a chair using his mutant abilities. I sat down as Dad spoke up. "My daughter needs a place to stay. She's not safe with me, and you know she's not safe at the Continental, despite the rules. You of all people would know that."

"I have a husband, John. He barely knows what I used to do. He's still wide eyed and helpless against these powers we speak of. If I help you, the High Table will come for him and all the children here. I can't have that," Erik said, sitting across from him. Dad had pushed the marker across the table towards the retired assassin, but he simply pushed it back. "Your daughter cannot seek sanctuary here."

Dad held up his marker. "I was there for you, Erik. When you needed to get out for your family, I helped you find somewhere to stay. I am asking the same in return for Blake. The High Table can't do shit about a marker, especially since I still have 10 minutes," he replied, opening said marker. "This is your blood, Erik. You swore."

Lehnsherr looked up at me for a second. I could tell he was trying to find a reason to say no. He didn't want me or my father to be here, which I understood, but a little part of me was hoping and praying that he would still say yes. 

"One year. She may stay under my supervision for one. Year," Erik said, glancing at my father as he grabbed the marker and closed it. "After that I don't want to see either of you again."

Dad let out a quiet sigh of relief as he looked back at me. I could see the weight that was lifted, the worry that melted away. He turned back to Erik and stood. "Thank you, Erik."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John says his goodbyes, not sure if or when he'll be back, and Blake has to find a way to deal with all the strange people living in this mansion.

I stood up as well as Dad walked over to me. "Be good," he said softly. I nodded. "Don't call me, let me call you. You'll be safer here, Blake."

"I know, Dad," I replied as he pulled off his wedding ring, handing it to me. I took it and clutched it in my hand before putting it in my pocket. It was a thing we did. When he went on missions, he gave me his ring for safe keeping. "Come back in one piece. I don't want to bury you too."

He gave me a small nod and affectionately tucked my hair back. It showed a cut and bruise where a couple of bogeys had already gotten to me, but it already looked better than when it happened earlier that night. Thank God for Dad's training. I leaned into the hand slightly before Dad turned to Erik. "I was never here. Blake showed up on your doorstep with the marker," he offered.

"Sounds like what happened," Erik agreed. "I'll show your father out, Blake, while Hank takes a look at that cut."

I nodded slightly, looking up at Dad. This could be the last time I see him. I wanted to hug him; to jump in his arms one last time before he left, but I knew it was a bad idea. He had an image to keep up. We walked out to where Hank and Charles were and I looked at my father. "Bye Dad."

"Bye Blake," he replied, nodding to me before he was led out. I turned to Hank and he looked down at me.

"Come on, you need to get that cleaned," Hank said when he saw my cut. I nodded slightly as he started down a hallway, motioning for me to follow. "Do I wanna know what happened?"

"Guys broke into our house for Dad. They found me first, and I had to hold my own," I explained vaguely. I didn't want to give them too much information and get Dad in more trouble than he was already in. You can never be too careful.

Hank nodded slightly and had me sit on a medical table. I sat down like he said, dropping my bookbag and looking around for a moment. The walls were white, and there was a large table full of medical supplies. They were prepared for injuries like this, and one's that were much worse. "This may hurt," he said, holding a small cloth with cleaning alcohol on it. I didn't wince when he gently pressed it to the cut, despite the burning sensation it caused. "So, what's your mutation?" He asked.

"I can make people do whatever I want," I explained. I didn't usually open up like this about my mutation, but I knew that everyone here had one. What were they going to do, call me a freak? "Like puppets."

Hank seemed a bit surprised as he finished cleaning the cut. He grabbed a small tub of cream and put a little on his finger before gently smearing it over the bruise and cut. "That's a pretty cool mutation, Blake. How long have you known about it?" He questioned, filling the silence once more.

"A couple years," I replied.

"Good. You've already got a little bit of an idea of what you can do," Hank said, pulling his hand back. I didn't really ever use my mutation unless I had to in a fight, like I did tonight, but I guess he was right. He pulled me back from the memory replaying in my mind when he started to speak again. "That should stop the swelling. I made it myself, and it hasn't failed yet."

I nodded slightly and got up off the table, picking my bookbag up and putting it on my back again. Things were gonna be okay. "Do I go to school here, too?" I asked.

"Yeah," Hank nodded. "It's better for the kids to know that they have teachers they can trust. Come on, I'll show you to your room."

I fell silent after this, just following after Hank. We passed a couple people on the way. One of them was a tall, strong woman with dark skin and white hair. She held herself tall and proud, but smiled and nodded to Hank when we walked by. After her, there was a couple. They seemed pretty normal except for the fact that the boy of them was wearing a weird visor over his eyes. It seemed to be glowing a little bit, but I didn't say anything. Not my business.

The last people to walk by were two tall, strong men. The taller one had long, blond hair and dark eyes. His mouth was held weird, his lips not fully touching, and I could see that he had unnaturally long canines. His fingernails were long as well, but that could've just been a personal preference. The shortest, on the other hand, had short brown hair, dark eyes, and muttonchops. He had a cigar hanging out of his mouth, and he didn't look like a pleasant man. 

"Good evening, Logan," Hank smiled.

The short one, apparently Logan, glanced at him. "Evenin', Hank," he replied with a slight nod. We met eyes and I narrowed my eyes slightly. He broke it as he pulled the cigar from his lips and puffed out smoke  
.  
"People can smoke in here?" I asked.

"No, but you don't take smoking from Logan," Hank answered before opening a door. "This is your room."

I walked in and glanced around. It was a nice little room with a twin bed, a desk, and an empty dresser. I put my bag down on the bed and walked over to the window, pulling back the blinds slightly. I was on the second story; perfect. Not too high for me to not jump from, but high enough to give me a warning if someone was climbing up it. "Thank you," I said, nodding to the doctor still standing at the door. He nodded back.

"Classes start at 8 am tomorrow," he said to me. "Go to Xavier's office for your schedule. It's right down the hall from their room."

"I will," I promised before nodding for him to close the door. I took a deep breath and unpacked the limited stuff I had into the dresser. I had a week's worth of clothes, tee shirts and jeans, along with the clothes on my back. I also had a picture of Mom, Dad and I when I was about 10, so I sat that on the nightstand beside the bed. We were at the beach. It was a good memory. The last thing I had was a switchblade with my name carved into it, which I hid in my nightstand. Couldn't have anyone knowing I had weapons on school campus. 

After I got everything set up, I grabbed my pajamas and walked into the bathroom, showering quickly so I didn't go to bed soaked with rainwater. There was hot water, which was a blessing in itself, but they also had a fresh toothbrush, along with a hairbrush. They gave me basic necessities that I didn't have space for in my bag. I really appreciated that. 

Maybe my stay here won't be too awful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake tries to get a little friendly with some of the kids at her new school, but also finds a way to, somehow, throw them all for a spin when it comes to physical ability.

I woke up the next morning to students moving around in the room next to me. I heard them turning on showers and opening dressers, so I decided to check the time. 7:00. That's plenty of time to get up and ready.

I pulled myself out of bed and made my way over to my dresser. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a white teeshirt, I sleepily pulled my pajamas off to get dressed. To touch up the look a pulled on a red and black flannel, along with a small necklace. It was a silver heart, something of Mom's that made Dad practically tear up when I wore it. 'You look so big with that on, baby girl. Why don't you keep it?' Mom had said when she saw me, a 9 year old, wearing it around the house.

God, I missed her.

Making my way down to the kitchen, I noticed a small group of students eating at a table. Once I got inside the kitchen, I noticed a couple older teens, Erik, and the tall cigar guy from yesterday. "Blake, here's your schedule," Erik said, pulling a paper out of his pocket. I nodded as a thanks and grabbed an apple, crunching into it. Peeking at my schedule, I had Mr. Logan first period, which was physical training.

"You're Logan, right?" I asked the cigar man, catching him by surprise.

"Yeah, why?" He replied. It wouldn't surprise me if a lot of new kids were intimidated by him. He was tall, buff, and had a resting bitch face. 

I swallowed the bite I had in my mouth before speaking. "I have you first period. I wanted to make sure I had the right Logan," I said. He shrugged slightly and went back to making himself a cup of coffee. I then glanced at the teenagers in the room. One of them was a boy: slim, pointy-eared and blue. The other was a girl, also quite slim and fit. "I'm Blake. Blake Wick," I introduced after I walked over to them.

"Kurt Vagner," said the blue boy with a strong german accent. "And this is Kitty."

The girl beside him nodded in agreement but looked me up and down. "What kind of name is Wick?"

"Russian. What kind of name is Kitty?" I retorted, crossing my arms slightly.

She grinned. "Ooh, she passed!" She giggled. "I have to be a little mean to see how you'll react. Sorry!"

"It's fine..." I replied, a little confused. God, this school is so weird. "So when does class start?" I asked.

"4 minutes, why? Ohhh you have first period with Logan!" Kurt grinned at me as his tail swished. He must've heard me talking to said teacher beforehand. "I'll walk with you. I have it too."

I nodded slightly and tossed out my apple core. "Come on. I don't like being late," I said, nodding for him to lead the way. Him and Kitty seemed like really nice kids, even if they were a bit obnoxious. I had always been very quiet. I took after my Dad a lot when it came to fighting and to social skills, which means I only excelled in one. I'm sure you can figure out which one that is.

After walking a bit, Kurt looked down at me. "I didn't see you here yesterday. When did you get here?" He asked.

"About ten last night," I admitted. "My dad wanted to talk to Lehnsherr about me staying here. I wasn't supposed to come until yesterday morning." There was no way in hell I was giving him all the details, but that should be enough to satisfy his curiosity.

The elf boy nodded. "You'll love it here. Sure some of the kids can be mean, but Kitty and I are good friends! We'll introduce you to our friend group as well," he grinned. I chuckled slightly.

"Thanks, Kurt," I said with a small smile as we got outside. "Is this where Logan teaches?"

Kurt nodded and sat down in the grass to stretch, so I did the same. I really didn't want to pull a muscle. "He says the grass is much more forgiving than the concrete inside. Besides, he hates the smell of sweaty teens," he explained.

I shrugged slightly in agreement. Sweaty teenagers smelled like shit. Kurt and I chatted for a bit while stretching and waiting for Logan. It seemed as though the elf was just as much of an outcast as I was, but that didn't matter. He was a nice guy.

We only talked for about 3 minutes before Logan came out, putting a cigar out on his hand and then tossing it in the trash. "Welcome to Get Your Face Kicked In Education," he said snarkily. "So, as a starter question, who here can actually fight?"

I raised my hand, not ashamed of it, before looking around. Kurt did the same, along with a young girl with a white strand of hair amongst her dark locks. "You, I have no idea who you are but you talked to me this mornin'. C'mere," he said, pointing to me. I got up and walked to him, tucking my necklace into my shirt. "Spar me."

The class fell silent for a moment and he smirked. He fully expected me to back down, but when that Wick blood in me got pumping, I was not backing down. "Okay," I replied. "All out fight for your life spar?" I asked.

"Sure," Logan said.

"Ladies first," I smirked, narrowing my eyes. He dove down, much too quickly for a man of his size, and grabbed my knee, but I jumped up and placed my boot on his shoulder, flipping over him and getting a good jaw kick in. "That was stupid."

The class oohed and Logan stood back up, chuckling slightly as he tried to conceal his embarrassment. "Alright then, I'm done going easy," he said, feigning going low again and instead hooking his arm around my neck and getting me in a headlock. "How's that?"

I grunted and threw my elbow back, hitting his ribs, before jumping up and using his body as momentum. We both slammed into the ground and I rolled back on top of him, getting him in a leg lock and holding his arm against my chest. "You're stronger than you look," he said.

"You should see me with a gun in my hands," I smirked slightly. He tugged on his arm and I simply pulled it to a more uncomfortable position. "Tap," I ordered. He refused and I shifted, causing him to groan as his elbow cracked softly to let him know that it wasn't supposed to bend that way. He tapped on my leg and I released him.

I got up and offered my hand, pulling him to his feet. "Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?"

"My dad," I replied vaguely. He raised an eyebrow and I walked back to my spot beside Kurt, wiping my lip were he had hit it on the way down. "That was fun!" I called.

"Fuck you too, sugar," Logan said snarkily.

I smirked. "That's illegal," I replied. He rolled his eyes and the class snickered. "I'm sorry, carry on," I added with a soft chuckle as Logan started to explain certain types of fighting skills. I saw Kurt grinning and tilted my head. "What?" I whispered

"No one's ever beaten Logan in sparring before."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Kurt find out they have more in common than they think. However, Blake finds out that not every mutant is as genuine and kind as Kurt, but that may not always be a bad thing.

Both of my eyebrows shot towards the ceiling when Kurt said this. "Wait, what?" I asked, surprised by his comment. No one had ever taken Logan down?? Sure, the dude was strong, but as I looked around I noticed that there were some pretty buff teenagers hanging around us.

"Not without using their powers anyway. Logan is very skilled," Kurt murmured before going silent as to keep us from getting in trouble with the adult up front. I followed his lead and went quiet, simply paying attention as Logan explained how to put someone in a leg lock, which seemed to be the most simple fighting technique. He told us to pair up with someone around our size to practice and I looked over at Kurt, smirking slightly. He smirked back. "Partners?"

"Partners," I agreed with a small smirk, glancing over at him. We both stood up as a couple other students started, just learning how to do it. "I feel like you're more advanced in fighting than you're going to let on."

Kurt smirked and reached out with his tail, grabbing my ankle and pulling my feet out from under me. I fell and as he jumped on me, I threw one leg up and hooked it over his neck, slamming him down to the grass and getting him in a leg lock. He grunted and tapped out. "That didn't go to plan," he murmured, rubbing his neck. I smirked.

"Take her down, Kurt," Logan encouraged as he walked over to us. He was checking on all the group, but he seemed fascinated by Kurt and I.

Kurt smirked and grabbed me around my waist, turning us and slamming me back first into the ground. I grunted and went to flip us, but the blue boy used the momentum to keep us rolling, putting me in a leg lock on the way. I chuckled softly. "That was better," I admitted, tapping his calf. Kurt was fast, but I also went easy on him.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked as he helped me up.

"I went kind of easy on you," I said. He raised his eyebrows. "What? I didn't want to hurt your ego."

Right as Kurt went to reply, Logan called out some kid for doing it wrong. I sighed a little at this. "Don't I know that feeling," I muttered, glancing over at Kurt. He was grabbing his bookbag. "Class over?"

"Class is always over at 8," he replied, checking his watch. I did the same and nodded. It was around 8, so I reached down and picked up my bag just as the bell inside rang.

Once we were inside, Kurt told me had to go to a different class, but told me to look for a redhead girl, Jean, a boy with laser glasses, Scott, Kitty, or the brunette with a white streak, called Rogue if I had any questions about where my classes were. I waved goodbye to my only friend and started toward my class, feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket. Stepping to the side to get out of the flow of traffic, I pulled it out of my pocket to check it.

'I'm still alive.'

I smiled to myself when I saw this, replying back to the unknown number. 'Make sure to keep it that way. Love you, Dad.'

It took a couple seconds before the response popped up on the screen. He was probably texting me from a burner phone, but I didn't mind waiting too long. 'I love you 2.'

I chuckled softly at this before slipping my phone in my pocket and jogging into the hallway to blend in to the crowd. People were going in classrooms and I had no idea where mine was. I bumped into someone when looking in windows to find Hank's face and we just happened to bump shoulders, causing her to drop her books. "Oh crap, I'm s-"

"Watch we're you're going," she snapped. I stopped mid-squat, going to help her with her books, and stood up. "I'm going to be late."

I rolled my eyes silently before turning and continuing down the hall. If she wanted to be a bitch, I could be one too, but I wasn't going to be a loudmouth. Silent bitches are much more scarier. I found Jean and jogged over to her. "Jean Grey?" I asked, trying to get her attention. She turned around. "Hey, I'm a friend of Kurt's. Blake Wick. I'm new and I have no idea where Mr. McCoy's classroom is."

"I saw you yesterday, I think. Nice to meet you Blake," She said. I nodded as a 'likewise' so she could continue. "Come on, I'll walk you there and get a pass from Mr. McCoy."

I nodded and gave her a slight smile. "Thank you," I hummed. I never talked much around strangers, which made me like my father in a way, but when I was around my friends I was a full blown chatterbox. Kurt brought out the best of me when it came to that category.

Jean walked me down another random hall. "You said you're friends with Kurt? He's probably the nicest kid in this school, but he gets a lot of shit," she admitted, making small talk.

"He's in my Training class," I replied before shrugging a little. When you look as weird as Kurt, you're bound to get some teasing, but the kid was so nice. How could anyone tease him? We came up on a class right after the bell rang. "This it?"

"Yeah," Jean said before walking in with me. "Hey Mr. McCoy. Blake got lost and the bell rang on the way here, could you write me a pass?" She asked.

He nodded and walked over to his desk before looking up at me. "Blake, hey. Just pick a seat," he said, nodding to the rows. There was an empty seat in the middle and I sat down, pulling out my textbook and glancing at my neighbor. He had shoulder length, silver hair, and was wearing a Pink Floyd shirt along with a gray jacket.

"I'm Peter," he said quickly. He was around my age. 

"I'm Blake Wick," I replied, looking over at him. "So what're we doing in this class?"

"Uh... Good question," he smirked slightly. Oh, he's that kid. "I'm pretty sure it's something to do with evolution. It's easy."

I chuckled softly when he said this and opened my notebook, nodding to Jean as she left. "If it's not evolution, we are going to have a problem," I joked before hearing Hank begin to speak.

"Good morning guys," he greeted. There was a collective groan of exhaustion. "Well, we have a new student, Blake Wick. She's by Peter, right there, and that's all I have to say on the matter. Today we will be talking about Darwin's Theory of Evolution..."

As Hank continued to go on about evolution, Peter nudged me and smirked. I rolled my eyes a little with a soft chuckle and went back to work, taking some notes where notes needed to be taken. Luckily, I already knew a lot about Darwin's Theory, so I didn't really have to pay attention. I heard tapping and looked over, seeing that Peter had put a bluetooth earbud in and was silently jamming out. He offered me one and I shrugged, putting it in my ear. 

It was Pink Floyd. What a surprise.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Peter seem to really get along, and Peter can't just leave her alone to let her do her homework in peace. She hasn't even seen all the mansion!

The rest of the day flew by like a breeze. The classes were easy and pretty entertaining. Professor Xavier's class was one of my favorites, especially since it had Peter and Kurt in it. They were both giant goofballs, and the professor made the giant mistake of sitting us together in a group of four with Jean, who had no chance of controlling us. I tried my best to keep us quiet, but eventually I just put my face in my hands and shook my head, Peter's comments finally getting me to crack into silent laughter.

Once the school day was over, I made my way outside and sat in the grass so I could do my homework. It was a nice day, sunny with a small breeze. It would be days like this when Dad and I would spent every moment we could outdoors, soaking up the sun and tossing the football around. The thought made me smile a bit before there was a strong gust of wind and an already familiar body beside mine. "Ugh, you do homework? You're really not perfect," Peter said, smirking at me.

I rolled my eyes. "I actually am, because my grades are 100s," I joked. I hadn't had a chance to drop them past that. He rolled his eyes as well. We had become pretty good friends, since we had a lot of classes together. "You need to do your homework too, you know."

Peter scoffed. "Nah, I think I'm good. Hurry up! I wanna show you around campus."

"Alright, alright, I'm almost done," I promised, continuing to do my math homework. Peter sighed dramatically and leaned on the tree beside me, but I ignored him. I continued ignoring him when he started humming, and didn't stop when he started playing the air guitar. I knew he was trying to distract me so I would give up on my homework and go now, but that wasn't going to happen. I was focused.

I eventually finished and looked over at the boy. "Alright," I chuckled, putting my math book in my bag and putting said bag on my back. "Lead the way," I said, standing up. He got up as well and smirked at me.

"Alright, first we've got the yard. This is where Logan spends 99% of his time because he's ancient, and also where most kids practice their powers," he explained, leading me through the beautiful backyard of the mansion. The grass was green and there was a small wooded area in the back with a trail. "Dad and Charles come out here sometimes. You know, when they're not fucking each other's brains out."

I laughed softly when he added this last part on. I was starting to really enjoy Peter's presence. He was funny, witty, and definitely a character different from the rest. He pulled me along with him, bringing me into the school. "This is what we call the Den. On rainy days most of the kids hang out here. There's a video game system, board games, yada yada," he explained. 

I nodded slowly, looking around the Den. It was pretty nice."How long have you been going here?" I asked, hoping to learn a little bit more about him. 

"A year and a half," Peter replied quickly, barely thinking of the answer. Or maybe he did think of it, but at such a pace I couldn't comprehend. "It's really not that bad here. Sure, some of the kids are mean as hell, but we're all freaks, so it doesn't matter."

I nodded a bit and followed him down a suspicious looking hallway. "And this is the Danger Room," he said, smirking back at me as we came to another room. "This is where the X-Men train." He walked in like it was no big deal, so I followed. It was big and made completely of steel, except for a viewing room that had a chair and some controls in it. "Usually one of the professors stand up there and monitor the sessions," Peter explained when he saw me staring.

"So why are we in here?" I asked, glancing at the boy beside me.

He smirked a bit and leaned on the wall. "The whole school knows about what happened between you and Logan. He's impressed."

I tilted my head a bit when he said this before I understood what he was implying, causing me to chuckle softly. "If you're saying that I'm going to become an X-Man, you can forget it. Professor Lehnsherr barely let me go to school here," I admitted. I didn’t expect anything special to happen to me here, especially not something as great as becoming an X-Man. 

“It doesn’t matter what Erik thinks of you. The X-Men are admitted in by voting, and you’ve definitely got my vote,” he retorted, winking at me playfully. I rolled my eyes a bit as he continued. “There’s a meeting tonight anyway. Logan called it, and I can bet it’s about you. I’m technically not supposed to talk about the X-Men meetings, but I’m a rule breaker baby.”

I chuckled when I heard this. This was why Peter and I were already getting along so well. We were both outcasts, not afraid to speak our mind when the need came. We both liked getting our noses in places they shouldn’t be, and neither of us ever regretted it. We were little kleptomaniacs, and we embraced it. “Sure, Peter, let’s go with that,” I joked. “Come on, I haven’t seen everything yet.”

He continued to show me through the mansion, making jabs at kids that passed by and sometimes speaking too quickly for me to understand. I didn’t mind, though. It was still probably the most fun I’ve had in a long time, which was sad but true. I didn’t get out much, and I definitely didn’t usually hang out with kids my own age. They were loud and annoying and immature. Peter was all of these, but in the right combination to be a great guy to hang around.

After the tour was finished, it was almost time for dinner, so Peter led me into a very large dining room. Inside, there were already a good amount of kids setting everything up for dinner. It looked like everyone chipped in a little bit. “Here, you can sit with us. Kurt, Kitty, Jean, me, et cetera,” Peter said as he grabbed my arm and dragged me over to a table. I quickly found something to do, which was getting our table some napkins. Kurt seemed really happy that I would be sitting with him and his friends for dinner, which warmed my heart. He really was a good friend. I guess I wasn’t too mad at my dad for bringing me here. After all, I already had more friends than I ever had before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan calls a meeting for the X-Men to talk about the elephant in the room: Blake Wick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be in third person. I'm terrible at writing third person, so I'm sorry if it sucks

After dinner, Logan told everyone to meet in the conference room for a meeting. Now, this would have been normal, and not something to worry about, if it had been Charles or Scott who called the meeting. However, it was not one of those two. It was Logan.

Peter was, of course, the last one in. He zoomed in right as the second hand ticked onto the 12, signalling that the meeting was to start. He took his chair beside Jean, put his feet on the table and looked at the small team. “So what’s so important that I couldn’t finish my game with Bobby?” the teen asked.

“This should interest you, Peter, it’s about your lil girlfriend,” Logan retorted, sarcastically. “Blake Wick.”

Erik, who was sitting across from Logan, shook his head immediately. “No, absolutely not,” he replied. “I know what you’re thinking, Logan. We are not allowing Blake on this team.”

“Wait, why not? She’s totally awesome!” Kitty asked. “Kurt told me what happened this morning. She took Logan out like it was nothing!”

The Wolverine threw a pen at Kitty, getting her to shut up for a moment so he could explain. “The kid has skills. Shit I ain’t never seen before. She took me down and laughed it off,” he said. “Erik, if ya saw what she was capable of, you’d agree with me.” Logan had never spoken highly of someone’s fighting skills unless they really managed to impress him. Even then, he didn’t usually say more than a ‘Good job, kid. Keep workin’.’

Erik fell silent, glancing over at Charles. The man was completely oblivious of the girl’s upbringing, of who her father was. Xavier was still innocent, despite everything he had seen, and that was because his husband refused to tell him about anything after he got out of the concentration camp. Erik’s teens were a mystery to Charles, and the former wanted to keep it that way. He barely caught the words that came out of Jean’s mouth. 

“If Logan likes her, I like her. She seems reliable. Why don’t we just put her in the Danger Room for a session and sees how she does,” the teenage girl said, glancing over the team for their response.

Peter grinned cheekily. “Sounds like a plan to me,” he smirked. The boy had taken a serious liking to Blake. She was witty, but quiet at the same time. She never told him to shut up, and she responded to his ADD and need for trouble with a smile. All Peter had ever sought for in everyone was acceptance, and Blake was the first person to fully accept him. It was a mystery to Peter why she was so nice to him, but he wasn’t complaining. And as long as she was good to him, he would be good to her. It was how the speedster worked. He was a relatively simple creature. 

“What’s her ability anyway?” Kurt asked. Everyone in the room remained silent, looking around to see who was going to answer. “Does anyone know?”

Hank sighed after a moment. “I’m guessing the only reason she never told anyone was because she didn’t want anyone to know-”

“No, I know how she works. No one asked, so she didn’t tell. It’s how her father works too,” Erik interrupted, scratching at his neck lightly. Charles looked to him warily, but said nothing. “She’s not going to tell anyone anything unless they ask, and she won’t be dropping hints either. She’s trained to keep secrets.”

Logan leaned forward slightly. “Somethin’ we need to know, Lehnsherr?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. He had always been protective of his team, and he didn’t trust outsiders.

“No, nothing you need to know,” Erik replied shadily. “Just… you might want to keep her away from your brother. Knowing her father, they would not get along.”

Victor had arrived at the X-Mansion about 3 weeks ago, talking about how he was tired of running from his past. At first, Logan didn’t recognize him. It took them nearly destroying the lobby of the mansion and successfully causing a panic amongst the students for him to remember. Now the two were seen together all the time. Not talking, exactly, just sitting in the same room or doing Danger Room sessions together; things where they didn’t need to talk for them to know the other was there.

“Why’s that?” Scott asked, never able to take the easy way out. Erik sighed. “Erik, why should Blake Wick be kept away from Victor. Is she a threat?”

“No, she’s not a threat, Scott,” Erik replied vaguely, but that wasn’t the case. She was an indirect threat. As long as the girl was being kept here, she was putting the entire mansion at risk of an attack. Not an attack they could fend off, either. This wouldn’t be just some angry human mob, or a feeble attempt by a small radical group of mutants to take down the X-Men. This would be a silent plague. Assassins posing as a virus, sneaking in and destroying the mutants from the inside out, only being noticed when it was too late. Only a few would survive an attack like that.

No one else asked Erik any more questions. Despite his loyalty to the X-Men, the man was still a frightening specimen. He wasn’t to be messed with. Besides, they were sure Charles would coax an explanation out of him by the end of the week. “Is this meeting over?” Kitty asked. “It’s, like, getting so awkward in here.”

“Yes, yes Kitty. Of course, you’re all dismissed. Jean, if you would, please let Blake know to come by my office in 20 minutes,” Charles said hastily, looking at his ‘team captain’. The professor had been unusually quiet during this meeting. However, Jean nodded and got up as Peter disappeared out of the room first, probably to find the subject of the meeting. Kurt and Kitty left together as well, talking about going on a walk down the trail behind the mansion. The little wood was a popular spot for young couples to get some privacy, which is why Charles never blocked it off. He knew teens needed their privacy, especially teens who are stuck in a tight knit mansion all year.

Besides, Charles was such a slut in high school. He understood what they were going through.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake is put to the test to see if she is battle ready, but is she strong enough to impress Charles?

Dinner was just finished when everyone at my table got up, telling me that they would meet me in the Den later. Apparently, Logan had called a meeting for the X-Men. I wanted to ask what it was going to be about, but I held my tongue so I didn’t invade on anything. I knew that it could be about something important. So, being the respectful person I am, I just made my way to the Den, grabbed a good book, sat down, and started to read.

About an hour later, everyone joined me in the Den. Kurt and Peter immediately went to the Wii, turning it on and going to Wii Sports, while Kitty pulled out her phone and sat down at a nearby couch. Everything seemed to be normal until Jean let go of Scott and made her way over to me. “Hey, Blake,” she said, not bothering to sit down. I raised my eyebrow. “Professor X and Erik want to talk to you in the Danger room.” She didn’t seem nervous for me, but she did have a look in her eye. This was serious.

Deciding not to say anything, I closed my book and put it back on the shelf after I memorized what page I was on. Jean started out the door and I followed, our shoes clicking on the tile floor. Most of the kids were outside. “So, what’s this about?” I asked, hoping I could maybe coax some information out of her.

“You’ll see,” was her dry response.

We made our way down the hall and into the Danger Room, the door automatically closing behind us. “Miss Wick,” called a familiar british accent. I glanced around before looking up at the viewing box, seeing Charles and Erik. “We have been notified about your talent when it comes to the martial arts and… well… for the lack of a better word, being scrappy when your life's on the line. This simulation is for you to go all out on. Defend yourself with any means necessary, Blake. You ready?”

Looking around, I saw that Jean had left while Xavier was explaining my reason for being here. I then glanced back up at the two men sitting in the viewing box and shrugged, giving them a thumbs up. Charles flipped a switch and the viewing room went dark, and, suddenly, the panels in the walls opened.

First, there were a couple robots. They didn’t have minds, so there wasn’t a way for me to use my powers to win this fight. I still tried subconsciously, and to my surprise it worked. A few of the robots actually paused when I told them to. I smirked to myself as my eyes faded to black, letting my powers come out in full strength. I controlled four of the robots and forced them to blast the ones behind them, letting the strain fade to the back of my mind while I took out a couple of the robots manually. It took about two minutes before all 30 robots were on the ground, either torn up or being forced down. I looked up at the viewing box, but it was still dark. “Level one: completed,” called out a feminine, robotic voice.

Next, there were large tentacles coming out of the wall panels along with a group of robots. I took control of five of the robots and sent them after the others, feeling the strain pull to the back of my mind as I let my regular training take over. I took out the rest of the robots, not stopping for a breath. It felt amazing to spar like this again; reminded me of simpler times. Dad and I would spend hours in the garage, training and getting stronger. “Don’t take a breather unless you have the chance, Blake. You can breathe when you’re safe,” he would tell me.

After another 10 minutes of me going through the levels, along with giving myself a nosebleed, Charles stopped the simulation and met me on the bench outside the locker room as I caught my breath. My white long-sleeved shirt was damp from sweat, and my long black hair was a mess, but I wasn’t too winded. I could still go for a while.

“You did extremely well,” Charles said, handing me a water bottle before rolling beside me.

I shrugged slightly when I heard this before opening the water bottle and downing half of it. “Thank you, but I feel like I could do better,” I replied. I was always my harshest critic.

“You’re too harsh on yourself, Blake. You have some of the most remarkable skills I’ve ever seen for someone your age. Did you train with your father?” the paralyzed man asked, leaning back in his chair.

I wiped the blood from my nose and shrugged. “Dad’s mutation isn’t as obvious as mine. Once we figured out what mine was, he told me I needed to learn how to control it so that I could use it to my advantage,” I explained vaguely. I knew Charles only had the best in mind, but I still felt like I couldn’t trust him with the whole truth yet.

“Well, no matter how well you think you did, you passed the test we created. The meeting we called was for Logan to recommend you for the X-Men. He was extremely impressed with your fighting skills, and, after seeing your brilliance in class today, I agree that you will fit in,” Charles explained. I raised my eyebrow a little. “I only know what Erik has told me about your father, but I do know that he works alone. However, I strongly urge you to at least train with the X-Men. You may enjoy it more than you think.”

I nodded to myself and sighed softly as I thought about it. It was dangerous, getting close to these people. I knew it could have devastating results. Someone could get hurt, or, worse, killed because of me. However, I wanted this. I wanted to be able to trust someone outside of my dad. I wanted that normalcy, even though the X-Men was far from normal. 

“Fine. Where do I sign?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Throughout her stay, Blake and Peter only seem to get closer.
> 
> Some warnings for violence in this chapter. Not too graphic.

I had been at the Institute for at least 2 weeks now. I was put in a guest room when I arrived, mostly because Erik didn't expect me to stay very long. However, after the first few days, they moved me into a shared room so that they would have extra space. 

My roommate was Kitty. Whoever made that arrangement definitely didn't know us at all (or they knew us perfectly well and did it just for kicks.) Despite this, we managed to get along pretty well. Sure, Kitty was sickenly sweet and her voice could get pretty irritating, but I knew I wasn't flawless either.  _ Especially  _ in the social sector. I had never been one for friends.

Tonight, though, Kitty was out with a couple of her girlfriends and wasn't going to be back for a while, so I decided to hit the sack early. Call me old and lonely, but going to bed early on a Friday night was nothing to be ashamed of!

_ 'You still up, old lady?' _

I rolled my eyes. Such a Peter text.  _ 'Sadly, yes.' _

There was a quick gust of wind and then Peter was sitting on Kitty's bed, trying to solve a rubix cube. "You're going to bed? It's like, 8."

"It's 10, Pete, and yeah. I wanna wake up early tomorrow so I can go on a run," I replied, sitting up. I was wearing a pair of black running shorts and a white tee shirt for bed. Usually, I wouldn't be wearing the shirt, but I knew better than to sleep shirtless in a boarding school.

Peter made a face and tossed the rubix cube to the side. "Ew, you're ancient. How about we go play video games in my room instead? Kurt's training with Logan, so it'll just be us."

I pretended to think about it, but he already knew what my answer was going to be. We were pretty much best friends. "Fine," I answered, nodding to him. "As long as I get to have a go at the stash of brownies you have in your room."

"Deal," Peter grinned, pulling me to my feet and zooming us to his room so we wouldn't be seen. Kids are mean. They'll put 2 and 2 together when there aren't even numbers, and then spread that rumor until Peter and I wouldn't be able to stand in the same room together without getting some looks.

I fucking hate kids my age.

When we got in his room, I immediately opened his nightstand and stole a brownie, smirking at him when he rolled his eyes. "You gonna stand there rolling your eyes or are you gonna start the game?" I asked, looking around his room. It hadn't changed much. There were still Pink Floyd posters on the wall, and the floor was still decorated with trash and clothes. "You should really clean your room. I can't believe Kurt handles this."

"He's just as messy as I am," Peter scoffed, turning on his PlayStation and falling on a couch.

I chuckled and grabbed a controller as well, sitting down beside him. "What're we playing?" I asked.

"Call of Duty," he replied, distracted by pulling up the game

I raised my eyebrow. "Which one?"

"That's private."

I chuckled and reached forward, picking up the case and reading it. " _ Call of Duty: Black Ops. _ That's a good one. Let's play zombies ."

Peter shrugged and we started a zombies map, listening to the purposefully scratchy music as it loaded in. "If I have to revive your sorry ass, I'm taking my snacks," he said, immediately going for the nearest rifle once our characters were spawned.

"Like hell you'll have to revive me, Pete."

* * *

We played Call of Duty for the next two hours, switching between multiplayer and zombies until our eyes hurt from the screen. When it got to the point where Peter was laying down with his feet across my lap, barely even playing anymore, I decided it was time for bed. Patting Peter's leg lightly, I pushed it off my lap and got up to stretch.

I tried to pretend like I didn't feel him watching me.

"What time is it?" Peter asked sleepily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

I checked my watch and pushed my hair back. "12:38. I'm going to bed," I hummed, rubbing my eyes as well. They burned from looking at the screen for so long. "Mind zooming me back?"

It took him a minute to process my question before he nodded and got up. His silver hair was a mess and he looked ready to fall asleep any moment, but he still came up behind me and put his hand on the nape of my neck the same way he always did. I nodded to him and he rushed us into our room, causing me to stumble a bit. I'd never get used to that.

"See you-" I looked around, but he was gone. "Tomorrow," I added with a yawn, not bothering to be upset by his sudden ditch. I was too tired to care. Instead, I laid down in my bed and passed out under the covers.

* * *

I woke up three hours later to the quiet tap of feet on the floor. Waiting until I felt a hand on my shoulder to grab me, I reached under my pillow and pulled out my switchblade, stabbing it into the stranger's neck without hesitation. I knew no one was supposed to be in my room at this time of night.

Blood splattered on my face and there was the quiet choking noise. It was probably supposed to be a scream.

When I met eyes with a full grown man that smelled like cigar smoke, I knew for a fact that it wasn't anyone from the school. At least, not anyone that wouldn't heal from a switchblade to the throat. After that realization hit me, any care for the intruders' lives disappeared.

Suddenly, there was a strong arm around my throat, cutting off my air. I grabbed the switchblade from the other guy's neck before he fell, stabbing it back into my attacker's thigh until he let go. I fell hard on my back, but immediately rolled back and stood up, throwing my switchblade the moment I was on my feet. It hit the third masked man right in the sternum, taking him down immediately.

Then there was silence.

I grabbed the blade from the third man's chest and walked over to the window, wheezing from getting thrown into the ground. When I looked out the window, I didn't see anyone else rushing through the shadows. My guess is that it was a small group of assassins thinking they could best my father. At least no one was able to get my location. These three guys were it.

I only turned my back to the window when my door was kicked open by a shirtless Logan. His claws were extended and he had a dangerous look in his eyes. Not anything I haven't seen before. "Don't worry, it was taken care of," I promised, dropping the bloodied switchblade so I wasn't deemed a threat.

Suddenly, the man I saw with Logan when I first got here was beside him, making eye contact with me for a moment. He was just as, if not more, wild than Logan. I could see the look in his eyes: a hunger for blood and death. This man was dangerous.

I heard groaning from the assassin I only stabbed in the thigh, so I captured his mind, my eyes turning black as his fogged over.

I forced him to snap his own neck. The taller man smirked.

I stepped over the bodies to get closer to the two, reaching up to wipe some of the blood from my face. I didn't get much. "The blood will stain if it dries."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suck at chapter summaries so uhhh I just watched the constantine tv show and chas replying with "do you think im pretty?" When the ghost asked him if he thought she was pretty was such a mood

I was unaffected as Mr. McCoy checked up on me. He did his best to be gentle, just talking to me as he checked my arms and head for breaks. When he felt my ribs, he made jokes on how most students would complain on how much it tickled. I remained silent. I didn't have the energy to joke around.

At least my ribs weren't broken.

Somehow, most of the students were able to be put back to bed. It was mostly thanks to Jean and Scott, which I was much more grateful for than I would ever tell them. I needed the silence.

Professor Xavier was much more worried than he was letting on, though. I could tell by the way he was constantly asking me questions, hissing to his colleagues about things I didn't bother eavesdropping on. I couldn't tell if he was worried for me or for his students.

I looked up when the tall man from earlier sat in the chair beside me. "You've got blood on your face."

"I know," I replied, reaching up and rubbing my hand over my face. It did nothing.

He leaned back into his chair, picking his teeth with long, sharp nails. "I'm not goin' to ask if you're okay. You're fine. My question is who the fuck taught you to fight." There was no questioning tone to his voice. He wanted to know, and wasn't going to take 'no comment'.

"My father," I answered.

He nodded slightly and pulled something from his pocket. It was my switchblade, still covered in blood. "I'm gonna hide this for ya," he said. It wasn't a request, but I still narrowed my eyes at him. He was really bad at asking for permission.

Ha. Relatable.

"Tight ass over there will snatch it if I don't," the man continued, nodding towards Charles. I wasn't surprised. The professor didn't seem to be the kind of guy to find it funny that I hid my knife.

"I better get it back," I said. I was never a talker, but especially after a fight, even a small one like tonight, my lips were sealed. It didn't matter how many men I killed; it would always leave its mark on my soul. 

Charles wheeled over before the man could continue. "Victor, mind giving us some privacy?"

"She ain't a lil bitch, Charles. She don't need fuckin' therapy. Look at her eyes," Victor sneered. The professor raised his eyebrows, silently telling him to back off. The mutant hiding my knife scoffed before he was pulled away by Logan.

"Blake…" Charles started. I turned to him and he paused. I knew I still had blood on my face and a darkness in my eyes. He was right to be startled. "What happened?"

"Assassins broke in the window to kidnap and torture me until my father showed himself. I killed them. I stabbed one in the neck, the other in the chest, and then I broke the last one's neck," I explained. He may not have asked for the gory details, but he was going to get them.

His soft blue eyes bore into my soul, begging me to calm myself down and let him in. "I want to see what happened, Miss Wick. If I may," he said, tapping the side of his temple with one hand while the other rested above my knee. 

"You won't like what you find," I promised, but nodded anyway. 

He took a breath and suddenly I felt him in my mind. I closed my eyes, replaying the scene so that he could watch. My mind had been completely empty except pure instinct, killing without hesitation. There was nothing: no fear, no shame. I killed those three men and felt  _ nothing _ , at least not until the adrenaline wore off and I was sure I wasn't in any danger. The professor watched as I took control of that man's mind, hearing his thoughts. He hadn't begged for his life, not even in his mind, but he didn't want to die.

I snapped his neck. The thoughts stopped.

Suddenly we were back in the med room, Charles' hand holding my knee and his other hand coming to rest on his chair. "Blake… How many-"

I didn't need him to finish the question. "19."

He fell silent. I could see his eyes harden, narrowing at me, before they went soft again. The professor couldn't make himself angry at me. I don't know what it was, but he thought I had a chance. He wanted to give me an opportunity for a life there was no chance I could get. I was in this shit now; there's no escape.

My phone rang from Erik's hand.

"Restricted?" He asked himself.

I looked up. "It's my father," I replied immediately. Charles turned in his seat to look at Erik, but neither of them moved. They could've been having a silent argument, I wasn't sure, but it ended when Logan snatched the phone from Erik's hand and tossed it to me.

I answered. "Hello?"

_ "Blake?"  _ He sounded so rundown, exhausted. There was no telling the last time he rested.

"Hey Dad," I replied, keeping the emotion from my voice.

There was a grunt and then heavy breathing on the other side of the phone. He was stapling himself up. I should be there helping him, keeping him from having to do it himself.  _ "Are you okay?" _

He doesn't need any added weight. "Yeah, Dad. I'm okay. What's going on so far?"

_ "I thought you would be safe there, kid. He was supposed to protect you-" _

"Dad, I told you I'm fine. He can't protect me against things no one saw coming," I soothed. I knew Dad was keeping Erik's name off the line in case it was tapped. When I looked up, I saw that Charles had ushered Logan and Victor from the room. At least I had some privacy. "Tell me you're closer to life than death."

_ "It'll be okay, Blake. I'm going to fix this." _

He was getting ready to hang up. I had to say something. I had to make him come get me so I could help. He couldn't do this alone. He was going to die if he didn't get help; it didn't matter how immortal he thought he was. Or, rather, in Dad's case, how immortal everyone else thought he was. I had to help. I had to get to him. I- "I know you will, Dad."

_ "I love you, Blake." _

He didn't say those words unless he wasn't sure he was coming home. "I love you too, Dad."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles finally makes Erik talk. 
> 
> Sorry this chapter kinda sucked hehe the next one will be better.

Charles grabbed Erik's arm as he wheeled out into the hallway, giving the girl privacy with her father. The professor had always had his suspicions about the Wicks ever since they arrived. He knew there was something off about the family, but he never voiced his concerns to his husband. He didn't want to force Erik into talking about something he wasn't ready to share.

But when his students were at risk, Charles stopped messing around.

"What the bloody hell is going on, Erik?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at his lover.

"Nothing that concerns you," the metal-bending mutant promised, placing his hand on Charles' shoulder as he went to return to his room.

Charles grabbed his wrist and spun around in his chair. "No. One of my students was just attacked by three non-mutant  _ assassins _ in her room. This concerns me  _ greatly _ ."

Erik turned around, facing the disabled mutant for a moment as he contemplated his answer. On one hand, he knew Charles wouldn't give up until he got the answer he was looking for. It was something that the taller mutant always admired about his lover: his persistence. On the other hand, telling the professor about his past life might drive the man away. It could scare him and destroy everything Erik had worked so hard to get.

Worst of all, it could put Charles' in further danger.

"Charles, you-"

"Tell me the  _ truth,  _ Erik," the telepath ordered, his grip tightening on his chair. After a moment, he continued. "Nothing in your past could ever change the way I feel about you, Erik. I know you have changed a lot since your younger years. What you went through was… devastating, but it made you into who you are. Please, love. Stop hiding that from me. For me to truly understand you, I have to know your past."

There was a heavy silence for a while. Charles hadn't ever straight up asked him to talk about everything. Because of this,Erik was still having his internal conflict. He wanted to believe Charles. He wanted to be able to trust the man enough to tell him all about his demons without fear that he would push him away, but that never happened. People never stuck around after he told them about his time underground.

_ Charles won't be like the others,  _ said a little voice in the back of his head.

"From the age 18 till I was 25 and met you, I was an assassin," Erik started. "I lived deep underground. I killed too many people to count just for the money I got out of it. It was easy, almost. There were only 3 rules I had to follow, and they were simple. I was stable, so I continued to kill. I didn't care who it was, as long as I got paid."

Charles was indifferent. Must be the shock. "What about John Wick?"

"I had people coming after me; too many to handle alone. He was a last resort. I gave him a marker if he would help me kill the assassins coming for me, and he agreed. It was the worst mistake I've ever made," Erik replied. He felt guilty for everything that was going on. If he had only given up the money that John asked for...

Charles raised his eyebrow at this, about to make a sarcastic remark, but he held it in. "What's so bad about a marker? What even is a bloody marker?"

"Exactly that. A marker is a thumbprint of blood that you give to someone if you can't pay them properly. The person can come to you with the marker anytime they want with any task they want, and you have to obey, or risk being sought out and killed by every assassin in the area. It's called being excommunicado," the ex-assassin answered, rubbing his forehead lightly. "Wick came to me with Blake because he's currently excommunicado. He was worried they would come for her. No one knows of his abilities, except me. He knew she'd be safe here."

"Erik," Charles said in that gentle tone of his. "I wish you would've told me this before. We could've amped our security, had the brothers check the perimeter every night."

Erik paused when he heard this. Charles didn't reprimand him, or stare in terror when he found out his husband was a murderer -more so than he already was. He simply called him back to reality with his soothing voice and then talked about protecting the children. The professor never judged him, not really. Not like everyone else in the history of forever had. 

_ You don't deserve him. _

"If you thought I was going to push you away for it, you are deeply mistaken. Love, I would - _ could _ \- never push you away for something like that. We've all done things in our pasts that we regret. We can only get better when we've allowed ourselves to be forgiven," Charles started one of his long rants on forgiving yourself and, for once, Erik just didn't want to listen to the man.

He leaned down and lightly kissed the professor, shutting him up effectively, before standing. "As much as I love your essays on my mental health, I think the young mutant in the other room needs you much more than I do."

Charles chuckled fondly at this, blushing a little. At least Erik was back. "Alright, alright," he replied. "But do promise me something, Erik."

"Yes?"

"Stop hiding things from me," Charles practically begged. "Nothing in Heaven, Hell, or Earth could make me push you away, but I think I deserve to know."

The metal-bending mutant bit his lip a little, either out of shame or to keep in his response. "I will," Erik promised, patting Charles' shoulder lightly. "Tonight, I'll tell you everything, yeah?"

Charles nodded, and with that, they walked back into the medical room like the conversation had never happened.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, shit at chapter summaries. Uhhh mostly fluff I suppose?
> 
> I just got braces today. My mouth hurts a lot

Once Dad hung up the phone, I put it beside me and sighed. He could be dying and I'd have absolutely no idea; that could've been my last 'I love you.' My last moments with my father might’ve been over the phone, both of us rundown and tired and not even paying attention to what we were saying.

Nope, not thinking about that.

Now that my adrenaline had gone down, I could feel the bruising on my back and forearms, but it wasn't anything I hadn't felt before. Hank had cleared that I didn't have any broken bones, just some heavy bruises. I'd be good as new in a couple weeks; well, physically good as new. Breaking me from my thoughts, I felt a soft gust of wind and saw a flash of silver hair before it settled in the bed beside me. Peter’s t-shirt and sweatpants were wrinkled from sleep, along with his hair being a mess. Despite this, he still had a hidden look of worry in his eyes.

"I eavesdropped on Logan and Victor about what happened," he said, keeping his voice low. He probably wasn't supposed to be here. "You okay?"

I suddenly felt self conscious about the blood on my face, so I reached up to scrub it off. It didn't work. "Yeah, I'm okay," I replied softly. "Probably not sleeping for the night, but I'm okay."

"That's such a you answer," Peter chuckled. I smiled softly. "How'd they even get in?"

"My window," I answered. "They unlocked it with a knife, probably. I didn't hear them until they touched the ground." I cursed myself when that came to mind. This could’ve been prevented if I had just paid more attention to my surroundings...

There was a silence for a minute, which was weird. Peter was never quiet; it was just out of character for him. He was always talking or making noise or bouncing his knee or  _ something _ . He was never just silent.

"I'm really glad you're okay, Blake," he said softly, looking down at his knees.

I nodded slightly. "Me too," I replied. I don't know what would've happened if I didn't have my switchblade with me. They could've kidnapped and tortured me, or, worse, killed me and left my body for the school to find. I didn't want to cause that kind of trauma. No, this fight wasn't for the school; this was between me, my father, and the underground world.

I was pulled from my thoughts when Peter shifted closer to me and put his arm around my shoulders. If it had been any other person, I would've flinched away and pushed them off, but not with Peter. He was different; I trusted him. So, I leaned into the arm.

He didn't say anything; hell, he probably didn't know what to say. Neither of us were exactly cuddlers. He just rubbed my arm lightly and let me lean against him, which was more than enough. He actually smelled pretty good: like body wash and shampoo. Nothing fancy, but it still gave me a comfort I hadn't felt in a long time. The speedster put his chin on my head and I closed my eyes, taking a soft breath in. When he heard this, he hugged me closer.

"You're safe now, Blake."

* * *

Like I predicted, I didn't go back to sleep that night. I spent twenty minutes in the shower when I first got back to my room, and then sat at my desk and stared at the bloodstained carpet. The Howlette brothers had dragged the bodies out before any students could see them, but it was too late to prevent the stains. I told them not to worry about it until morning. 

It always hurt the same when the fact that  _ I killed someone  _ hit me. It was like a train. I could always run, put my arms up in defense, but it would always hit hard and unforgiving, running over me until there was nothing left, and leaving once I stopped fighting back.

I was told to take the next day off from school, but I knew that just sitting in my room would drive me insane. So, instead, I got up and got dressed 30 minutes before my alarm went off.

When I got to the kitchen, I noticed that the only ones up were the Howlette brothers and Kurt. Logan was talking with the blue elf as they made their way into the dining room, both nodding to me as I walked into the kitchen. I was happy that they didn't pity me; that was the last thing I needed.

I walked over to the counter and grabbed an apple, making sure it wasn't bruised before I washed it off. Victor was still in the kitchen, but I really didn't think he was a morning guy, so I didn't say anything.

Halfway through my apple, Victor walked over to me and handed me the switchblade. I took it from his clawed hands and slipped it in my pocket, ignoring the dried blood on the handle. "Thanks," I said. He nodded. "What time is it?"

"Do I look like I know the time?" The older feral scoffed.

I raised my eyebrow. "Considering you're wearing a watch, I'd say yes."

He scoffed and told me the time, but he didn't seem too pissed at me. I was pretty sure we would get along. He seemed rough around the edges, but so was I. Sometimes that’s the best way to be.

* * *

In Hank’s class, Peter seemed more than surprised to see me. I’m sure he thought that I would be taking the day off; most kids would have, so I didn’t blame him, but I’m no normal kid.

When I sat down beside him, the speedster nudged me gently. “You okay?” he whispered under the roar of the unruly class. The bell hadn’t rung yet, and Hank didn’t care what we did as long as we didn’t destroy the classroom. “You were really shaken up last night.”   
“Yeah, I’m fine, Peter. It’s not my first kill,” I replied, looking over at him. “I just needed a moment. It’s not like that stuff gets any easier.”   
Peter chuckled. “It better not. That means you’re a psychopath.”

I smiled a little to myself, the first time my face broke it's stoic position for the entire day, and shook my head a little. It didn't matter how broken and flawed he saw me, Peter would always think the best of me; just like I would for him.

We were besties, pretty much.

He didn't bug me much throughout the class; it was mostly just little notes he scribbled on my paper and quiet jokes he muttered under his breath. It was the little things he knew would make me laugh. I needed to laugh, honestly. It was the only thing that could heal this open, irritated wound.

Well, not the only thing.

His smile did a damn good job too.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake's very first mission ahead. Part 1 of 2

A couple weeks went by and things were going back to normal. I had my first training session with the X-Men, and, even though Professor X was more than worried about my mental state, they didn't take it easy. It was weird to have a team backing me for once, but I couldn't complain. My guess is that they were used to taking in loners. They didn't force me to fight alongside them; they gave me the option of defending myself or joining the team.

I didn't really think they would function well together. It's a group made out of adults and teenagers; I was sure that the adults wouldn't let us really do any fighting. From where I come from, the kids were unheard of until they reached their 16th birthday. That was when they could be given the real contracts.

But, I digress.

The older X-Men knew we could handle ourselves. Even in training, they went about their own thing while we fought. Charles refused to let me have any weapons -something about wanting me to practice with my mutation. That's okay; I improvised.

Peter was nothing but a blur throughout the whole session, racing around with an unfathomable amount of energy, but never running into anything. Kurt was almost the same, turning to blue smoke every time I thought I saw him. The control those two had over their mutation was insane; it made what I had accomplished look like child's play, despite all the work I had put into controlling my powers.

That didn't stop me, though. No, I used my mind control to take over several of the robots and turn them to our side -definitely something that would help out in a real fight against mutants. It would probably go against the professor's moral code, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Ethics were often forgotten when lives were at stake.

Suddenly, the simulation stopped. It was nowhere near finished, and, as far as I could tell, no one was injured. I panted slightly to catch my breath as I looked around the Danger Room, noticing that the other X-Men seemed just as confused as I was. “Any idea why the simulation stopped?” I asked, raising my eyebrow. They shook their heads as the once locked door was now opened, revealing the disabled professor.

“Sorry to interrupt training, but we have a real problem right now,” he said. “Scott, come with me. I’ll brief you on what’s going on. Logan, Kurt, Blake, go along and get ready for the mission. This doesn’t need the whole team; it’s only a few rogue mutants.”

Logan and Kurt nodded, one disappearing in a puff of blue smoke while the other started towards a side room I hadn’t ever been in. So, deciding that I wasn’t going to go with Scott and that I had no idea where Kurt had teleported off to, I followed Logan while the others started back up on the simulation. They didn’t seem bothered that they weren’t allowed to go, so I didn’t even think of looking back at them. I just followed the older mutant into a side room. “Do we need uniforms?" I asked. I didn't want to wear a tight, movement restricting suit that would do nothing but make me look like an idiot while fighting.

Logan looked over his shoulder at me. "They like to wear that leather shit, but I hate it. I don't wear it. Nah, I brought ya here for this." He turned to the wall and pressed a button, causing said wall to split in the middle and pull away, like it does in the movies. Hidden behind the secret door was a variety of stun guns and blades. “Charles ain’t fond of guns, but he’s willin’ to compromise for a couple of us,” the older mutant smirked.   
  
I looked through the little arsenal that the professor had pulled together. Dad had taught me everything there is to know about guns, but these were nothing but tasers with a couple magazines of rubber bullets. Nothing that would cause lethal damage to anyone who was hit with it. However, it would definitely hurt like hell. It wasn't much, but it was something that I could definitely use in case of emergency; most of the time, I wasn't fond of guns either. They were loud and intense and inaccurate in the heat of the moment, but they tended to get the job done, so I couldn't complain.

I glanced to the side and smirked at the knives that lined the walls. There were hunting knives, pocket knives, switchblades, bowie knives, you name it. Now, I may not have had any knowledge on tasers, but I'd always been interested in blades. Even before my father started teaching me everything he had learned in his many years of 'hunting', I had a fascination with the weapons. It wasn't so much of a want to know how they worked, but a curiosity on how they were made, and why they were made that way. So, never one to deny me of being curious, my father showed me his knives and told me how each one was made to be used; he made sure he didn't leave a single stone unturned. Throughout my childhood, I managed to create quite the collection of knives, ranging from small pocket knives to katanas.

Too bad I couldn't have brought them with me.

I reached forward and took six Smith and Wesson throwing knives, tucking them in my pocket, before scanning the wall again for another close range blade. After contemplating for a second -I knew we didn't have all day- I grabbed a Ka-Bar and put the holder on my belt, making sure it was secure and wouldn't pull my pants down in case I needed to run.

"You done, princess?" Logan asked sarcastically. I chuckled softly and rolled my eyes.   
  
"You can't talk. You have knives in your hands," I replied, a bit of sass in my voice as well. He scoffed jokingly before leading me out of the room and picking up a light jog to make sure he could get there as soon as possible. I ran beside him, the knives hardly weighing me down.

Once we arrived at the jet, I noticed that Kurt was in one of the X-Men uniforms, already strapped into the seat. I glanced at Logan. "I'm guessing the uniforms are optional."

"Ja, but they have armor," Kurt replied, knocking on his breastplate. It made sense for the little blue mutant to need some type of armor. He could accidentally teleport right into a swinging weapon or punching arm when fighting, and the armor was necessary if he didn't want the shit knocked out of him. He was a smart little elf.

I sat down beside my friend while our teacher sat across from us, adjusting his leather jacket a little bit. I was wearing a pair of jeans a form hiding hoodie, knowing I was going to have to keep my identity a secret. I couldn't have my face plastered all over the news for every assassin and their mother to see, now could I? "Well, you don't need armor if you don't get hit," I replied as Scott made his way inside. I could tell by the look in his eyes that the older teen already had a plan. "What's up?"

"Some rogue mutants are holding some hostages in the Wells Fargo on 2nd Street," he explained. I nodded and waited for him to explain his plan of attack. "I plan on Kurt 'porting me in so I can talk them down first."

"What about me and Logan?" I asked, watching as him and Logan walked to the front of the jet.

Scott barely glanced back at me. "We don't know the full capacity of your powers and Logan's not exactly very chatty when it comes to hostage situations. You two wait outside for when the hostages get out. There could be mutants waiting for an ambush and we don't need any surprises."

My eyes narrowed a bit as my pride took over. "You have a mind controlling mutant on your side and you want to leave her outside during a hostage situation? I thought you were the strategist of the team, Scott," I said, my voice unwavering as I stared at the back of the laser shooter's head. I may have been comfortable with the team, but they needed to remember that I wasn't just some new girl with little to no control over her mutation.

I heard him sigh. "This is not up for debate, Blake-" he turned and met my gaze. I knew it was working when he paused.

"I'm an assassin in the making. I've been working on my powers since I was a little girl. I think you would want me on the inside in case things go haywire,” I replied, leaning forward a bit and resting my elbows on my knees as I held eye contact.

Scott fell silent for a moment as he considered it. I was qualified, for sure, and I knew that hostages made the situation much more sensitive, but that’s why I wanted to be in there. I had seen plenty of death in my life, and if I could prevent innocent lives from being lost, I would. Dad always taught me to only take the lives of other assassins, people with blood on their hands, and to always spare innocent bystanders, no matter what they saw. Even before Helen, he knew the difference between innocent citizens and the guilty monsters that walked among them.  
  
“Fine,” he sighed. “Logan, we’re going to need you to scan the perimeter of the building before coming in. Make sure no one is waiting to ambush us when we come out with the hostages. Blake,” I felt his eyes on me, “I don’t care what you were taught, but you do  _ not  _ kill. We want to prevent the violence, not cause more of it.”  
  
I got up and walked to the other side of the jet, opening a cabinet and pulling out a bandana so that I could hide my face. Kurt had told me that they had them there for when the X-Men forgot their masks or just needed a make-shift mask to keep smoke out of their lungs while we waited for Scott to get to the jet. As I wrapped it around my head and tied it, I looked up at the senior.  
  
“Scott, despite what you may think of me, I don’t enjoy the killing,” I said, my voice muffled by the bandana. He was silent after that.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake's first mission pt. 2. My last idea came from a lovely commenter who i forget the name of, but thank you! 
> 
> Also, comment what you think of my writing style. I'm changing it a little and I'm wondering if it fits

Scott finally landed the plane on top of a nearby building, which was still a bit too close for my liking. The hostages had already been held for half an hour, and now the mutants most likely knew we were there. The element of surprise was no longer on our side, but when Scott looked back, I could tell that he didn’t really care.

“Kurt, can you ‘port us in?” the senior asked. “Or do we need to move closer?”

The elf looked out the window of the jet and winced a little as he contemplated the answer. We were about two hundred feet from the bank, but he couldn’t see inside. Kurt had told me a while ago that he had to be able to see where he was teleporting; if not, he could end up in the realm he had to pass through to get to his destination. Whenever I asked about it, he tensed and changed the subject, giving me all the answers I would ever need about that place. It was too horrible to put into words, and I wasn’t going to make Kurt talk about something he wasn’t ready to talk about. It wasn't my place.

Besides, I had plenty that I was keeping to myself.

“Nein, mein freund. I’m sorry. We need to get closer,” he replied.

Scott looked at Logan and nodded. “It’s fine, Kurt. Logan, go take a look around the perimeter and make sure no one comes in the building,” he ordered before walking out of the jet, not really looking back to make sure we followed. Taking that as my cue to follow, I got up and adjusted my black bandana before following him onto the roof of the building. When I turned around, I noticed that Logan was no longer behind us. The guy was quick and silent for a man his size, I'll give that to him.

“There’s a window, Kurt. It looks like it leads into an office. Can you take us there?” Scott asked, interrupting my thoughts on where the clawed mutant was. I turned my gaze back to the bank and memorized all the exits with ease. The mutants weren’t going to go through the front door or any of the windows on the front of the building due to the police, so those were out of my mind pretty quickly. The ones I were worried about were the skylights, back doors, and windows. There was no telling which ones they would use.

I felt a disfigured hand around my arm and suddenly there was a blast of sulfur that rendered my nose useless, and for a split second we were in a realm that was red as fire and hotter than any desert I had been in. I didn’t get the chance to look around or figure out where I was before we were standing in the office, completely alone and in the dark. Trying to take a moment to collect myself, I caught a glimpse of my teammates. They seemed unfazed, as though they were used to it. 

_They probably were._

“Blake, can you sense minds around us?” Scott whispered.

I thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried. Be quiet,” I ordered, closing my eyes and looking for a mind to take control of. Usually the person was standing right in front of me, since I mainly used my powers for self defense, but there was no reason why I wouldn’t be able to use them like this. Concentrating all my mind into finding people around us, the only minds I could sense were Kurt and Scott's. “There’s no one around us,” I promised, opening my eyes.

“You’re sure?”

I gave the laser shooter a look, narrowing my eyes and reaching for the doorknob. “I’m positive,” I said, pulling the door open silently and stopping for a moment to listen. I could hear crying coming from the floor below us, along with some footsteps and occasionally some speaking, but other than that it was silent. “They must be trying to plan their escape. They know there’s police outside. They’re scared.”

Kurt grinned slightly. “They should be. We’re the X-Men.”

His positivity always brought a slight smile to my face. It reminded me of my own innocence, hidden away behind this veil of silence and violence. “Damn right,” I chuckled before letting Scott lead us silently down the steps. Once we got to the door and were able to see out of the small window, our leader motioned for Kurt to take me to the counter, behind a mutant that was holding a bat. This mutant didn't seem too dangerous besides the bat in her hands, but her skin was scaley like a reptile's; it wouldn't shock me if the gal had a mouthful of razor sharp alligator teeth.

There were a couple more mutants around the lobby. There was the one in front of the counter, along with one standing beside the door. The mutant beside the door seemed more dangerous. He was covering as much skin as he could and was avoiding getting close to his fellow mutants. My guess was that he had dangerous skin of some sort. The last mutant looked relatively normal, but he was walking like he was the leader of this shitty operation. He held himself like he was better than the terrified citizens at his feet, as if they were bowing for him and not scared out of their wits.

God, I absolutely _despise_ people.

Taking a deep breath, I mentally prepared myself for the teleportation. This wasn't like the last time I teleported, where I was in a relatively safe place and could take a moment to collect myself. When I appeared this time, I had to be immediately on alert. There were lives at stake.

The elf touched my arm, and, once I gave him silent permission, he teleported me behind the counter. The mutant looking my way immediately raised his hand, lifting us in the air with telekinesis, but I caught his eye and my own faded to black. “Put us down,” I ordered, causing him to do so, resting his hand by his side. His own pupils expanded to cover his eyes, and I could immediately feel him fighting against my tight grip on his mind. It was pointless; a worm can't escape the beak of a bird. 

As the reptilian girl standing in front of me turned around, the mutant by the door grabbed a child and held the small boy against his chest, holding a hand up to the child’s head. Kurt quickly ‘ported behind the mutant about to hit me and took care of her for me, knocking her out and laying her on the ground so that I could focus on the situation at hand.

There was an amount of trust in that split second that Kurt didn’t understand.

“Let him go, X-Bitch,” the still conscious mutant growled, his skin starting to ooze some liquid that definitely wasn't Vicks VapoRub. “Poison skin.”

I turned my gaze to the mutant holding the child and stared at him with unaffected eyes. Did he really think he was going to get out of this situation by threatening a mind controller? He just watched as I rendered his teammate helpless with barely a word out of my mouth, and now he was threatening a little boy’s life. What did he expect to happen?

“Listen, my friend, there is no need for violence-” Kurt started.

I held up my hand and took control of his mind. “Walk away from the child,” I ordered, forcing him to do my bidding. He was an asshole before, holding all these people hostage just for a couple thousand bucks, but, when he brought the child into the picture, it was over. The boy had nothing to do with the situation. He probably didn’t even want to come, but his mother didn’t have anyone to watch him and therefore he had no choice but to be dragged into a situation that would stick with him for the rest of his life. 

Just as I was about to knock the mutants unconscious, the front doors opened and there was a loud, familiar voice that rang through the bank, making a sarcastic remark that only one person in the world would make. I hadn’t heard that voice since I was a little kid, and I didn’t think I ever would.

“I have a really important deposit to put in,” the masked figure said, pulling two guns out of his waistband and shooting the mutants that I were controlling in the head. It ached, like the worst migraine, but I didn’t have the chance to flinch before people were screaming and covering their heads, my eyes fading to their normal dark brown at the same time.

Scott quickly jumped into action. He had been helping out an elderly woman who had been kicked down, but now that she was up he had his hands free. He opened the doors and guided the people out into the police’s care, making sure that the elderly and the young children got out as quickly as possible. Kurt helped, picking up a small girl who had lost her mother and carrying her out.

I walked up to the assassin that I had known since I was five, ignoring the chaos around me. “Wade???”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake's known Wade for a while, but they never really got the chance to know each other
> 
> Sorry if this chapter seems odd. I've been so busy and this was really just me having them shoot the shit in the plane lol

"Holy shit! Oh my God, you grew up! Aww, you're so cute," the antihero cooed, leaning down the five inches he had on me to make eye contact. "Is Daddy still pretending to be Jack the Ripper over his dog?"

I narrowed my eyes at Deadpool, crossing my arms and glaring at him silently. "Oh, you really are just like him! Silent but saying a thousand words," he said.

"Wade, my dad worked with you because he was young and stupid. If he knew how much you would milk it he would've died before even thinking about it. Besides, Jack the Ripper killed prostitutes, smartass," I scoffed, pushing past him and meeting everyone outside. Wade and I didn't exactly get along, and for good reason.

Scott turned to me when I walked out of the bank. "Who the hell is that?" He snapped at me. I could tell it scared him when Wade came in and killed those two people without any background knowledge of what was going on.

"His name is Wade Wilson. He's kind of an assassin that kills bad people but in a costume. He's also a psycho," I said, just loud enough for him to hear through my bandana but not loud enough for anyone else. "He worked with my dad when I was little."

I could already hear Scott scolding me, going off about how we didn't kill people, but Logan butted in. "We gotta go. Media's here," he said, his eyes narrowing when he saw Deadpool walking out of the bank like he just stopped a mass murder. "Oh fuck, what the hell is he doin' here?"

"You know him too?" Kurt asked, his tail swishing nervously. He obviously didn't like the media.

The feral sighed. "Unfortunately," he muttered. "The fucker is gonna follow us back to the school. Let's go."

Kurt immediately 'ported back to the jet, wanting to get away from the reporters that were starting to come towards us, yelling questions all the way. Most of them were asking about Wade, wondering if the X-Men were now acting as judge, jury and executioner, but some were trying to figure out who I was. I felt Logan put his hand between my shoulder blades, keeping anyone from getting their hands on my jacket and revealing my identity. 

_ Thanks…  _ I thought, knowing better than to speak. Even risking my voice being heard was dangerous. 

"You're welcome," Wolverine murmured as Kurt reappeared in front of us, quickly teleporting us to the jet.

When we appeared in the jet, I reached up and pulled the bandana off, along with pushing my hoodie down. "Logan, did you say something when we were walking?" I asked, raising my eyebrow as I moved away from him. I had never been one for affection or human contact.

"You said thanks, I said you're welcome," he responded, walking to the front of the jet casually.

I glanced at Kurt. "I didn't say anything in case they caught my voice on recording," I said, turning my gaze back to the canadian. "You must've just heard someone that sounded like me."

Logan glanced back, his eyebrow raising slightly. Scott was flying the plane, so the feral didn’t have to worry about crashing us because he wasn’t paying attention. I could tell by the look in his eye that he  _ knew  _ he didn't just hear someone else. Logan's hearing was unlike any other. He could tell someone's age through their voice from a mile away, and I was right beside him. There was no mistake that he heard  _ my  _ voice.

I turned away from him, starting to talk to Kurt. I just needed to figure everything out without his questions. Besides, even I thought my powers were done developing. Dad had told me that his mutation finished developing by the time he was 14, but he also didn’t go to a school where they pushed you to grow and control your powers at the same time. I decided to give him a call about it later and we’d be able to talk it out.

“Earth to Blake,” Kurt said, catching my attention from where I was staring at the side of the plane. I shook my head to break myself of the trance before looking over at the blue mutant.

“Yeah? Sorry,” I replied, focusing my attention on talking instead of zoning out. It was going to bug me until I figured it out, but I’d just push it aside and deal with it later.

The german raised his eyebrow at me and I did the same, daring him to ask. “Anyway,” he drawled, changing the subject. “How do you know Deadpool? He said that you grew up.”

I shrugged a little. “Wade worked with my dad when I was little. He actually ended up watching me for a night so that my dad could handle some business,” I explained vaguely. No one besides Erik knew my dad’s profession and I preferred to keep it that way. For once in my life, I wasn’t defined by my father’s actions, because no one knew who my father was. They knew me as the snarky girl who joined the X-Men on her second week of being a student, not as the daughter of the Babayaga. “Let me say, Wade is not a good babysitter. He tried to cook me dinner, and I was throwing up for weeks. The bastard gave me food poisoning.”

Kurt laughed, seeming to have forgotten all about how weird I was acting just a couple seconds ago. “From what I’ve seen, it fits.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “Dad nearly killed him. Anyway, we never saw him after that. It was kinda like he vanished into thin air the moment we told him to leave. If we had wanted to find him again, we couldn’t’ve. He knows how to cover his tracks.”

He nodded slightly, rubbing his hands together a little and staring at the ground. Of course, I immediately noticed the change in attitude. The mission was bugging him from how violent it turned. “Thanks for the backup by the way. That girl would’ve definitely taken me out if you weren’t there,” I said, causing him to bring his gaze back up to me. “He just grabbed that kid and threatened to kill him… like the kid wasn’t even a person. He acted like the little guy was nothing but an animal that needed to be slaughtered. It just made me sick and I forgot myself.”

“Sadly, I feel sick to my stomach on almost every mission we go on. There may be no such thing as werewolves and vampires, but monsters are real, and they live in the shadows of mankind,” Kurt said softly, turning his gaze back to the floor. He definitely had seen some stuff in his life. The mutant acted happy and perky all the time, but it was times like this where I saw how dark he could really get. His eyes lost that usual sparkle he had and for once his tail was still beside him.

I reached out, resting my hand on his shoulder and making him look at me. “Yeah, well, that’s why there’s people like the X-Men. We keep the blood and shit off the streets so that innocents don’t have to witness it. It may have a price, but to me it’s worth it,” I replied, meeting his yellow eyes. Kurt had never scared me when I met him, which may have been the reason we were instantly friends. He wasn’t scared of me; I wasn’t scared of him. It was something neither of us were used to. 

“You’re right, meine freundin,” Kurt smiled softly. “The price is great, but the reward is greater.”

“What are you two yappin’ about?” Logan called, having gotten bored of watching Scott fly the plane. He spun around in his chair, and I fell back against my seat.

“How lovely you look in women’s underwear,” Kurt replied instantly, causing me to choke on air in surprise. The friendship Logan and Kurt had was unmatched, despite the age difference. It was like Logan could sense what Kurt had been through and took the little blue elf under his wing, picking on him like an older brother and putting up with his shit.

Logan was unaffected. “How would you know what I look like in women’s underwear?”

“How come you didn’t deny that you wear women’s underwear?” I asked, raising my eyebrow and barely managing to keep a straight face. I felt the most comfortable around Logan, teacher wise at least, and when I felt comfortable was when I came out the most. Most of my teachers hadn’t heard me speak a word besides answering questions. Well, Charles never could get me to shut up, but that was because he put me beside Peter and Kurt. That was his mistake.

“What I do in my free time does not concern you,” the canadian scoffed, somehow managing to keep the bit going.

“So  _ that’s _ why you sneak out at night. You’re a drag queen. Strut that stuff,” I said, nudging Kurt a little and hoping he would keep up the bit. “What’s your favorite? You know, to wear on the runway.”

Logan didn’t even hesitate, like he had prepared his whole life for this one moment. “Lingerie.”

There was silence as we processed what he said before Kurt started laughing. Of course, his laugh made me start laughing too, and that only encouraged him to laugh harder. I hadn’t really ever had friends that I could just shoot the shit with, much less joke around with like this. Sometimes my dad and I made little snappy remarks at each other, but I never got along with anyone at my old school and I definitely didn’t get along with any of the other children of assassins. This was the first time I ever felt like I belonged. I didn’t ever want that feeling to go away.

For once, I didn’t worry about my dad. I just laughed at the mental image of Logan in lingerie. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake finally figures out why Wade popped up after all these years
> 
> (I know my update schedule is shit I'm so sorry-)

We arrived at the school not long after Kurt and I were able to stop laughing. Logan had just rolled his eyes at us and turned back to face the right way, but I could tell that he found it just as funny as we did. Besides, Logan always thought the funniest person ever was himself. Despite what he believed, only half of his jokes really landed; he had the sense of humor of a grandpa.

When Scott landed the plane, I followed Kurt out, planning on doing some homework once I got to my dorm room. Kitty was struggling with her Russian class and I promised I would help her. Plus I just had a ton of homework from my American History class that needed to get done before the weekend was over.

I had practically forgotten that Wade had followed us back to the mansion before I heard yelling coming from upstairs. A deep, animalistic voice combined with the annoying tone of the antihero immediately served to remind me what was going on.

“Looks like Wade found my brother again,” Logan muttered as he stood beside me. I glanced at him and raised my eyebrow. “We all served together.” I nodded, suddenly making sense of some of Logan’s more militaristic habits. However I couldn’t believe that Wade had ever been in the military. The asshole was way too… Wade… for him to have been in any branch. Probably a marine that ate too many crayons.

I sighed and jogged down the stairs, nodding to Kurt when he said he didn’t want to be around Deadpool any more than he had to. The elf usually tried to surround himself with good-hearted people, definitely not a category Wade fit under, and I could tell the man’s sense of humor just made him uncomfortable. I didn’t blame him a bit for wanting to get away from Deadpool; I actually envied him for being able to. 

When we got upstairs, I walked right over to Wade and shoved him away from Victor, slamming him into a nearby wall and narrowing my eyes. “I should put a bullet right between your eyes for that stunt you pulled back there,” I snapped. “You could’ve exposed me and now the X-Men have a worse name than they did before.”

“Woah, take it easy Mulan,” he said. “I was bored and in the neighborhood. Besides, it’s not like this one has a Spiderman to take care of it.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling myself off of him and crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t have time for your nonsense blabbering. Why are you here?” I asked.

“I’m looking for your dad! Do you know what I could do with 7 mil?” Wade cried, throwing his arms up like it was obvious. I swear, his dramatics were going to be the death of me. However, I knew Wade. He was a selfish bastard, but he didn’t really like bounties. He killed bad guys for the hell of killing bad guys, not because he could earn several million dollars for it.

“Dad would tear you to pieces without breaking a sweat, but if you really are looking to kill him, you know I can’t let you walk out that door,” I replied. “Besides, I’ve been keeping tabs on you. You kill for the fun of killing, not because you want the money. So why are you really here?”

“Aww, you’ve been looking out for me? That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” he cooed. I rolled my eyes again. “I was going to tell you at the bank, but you ran away with the rubber men before I got the chance.  _ Jardani  _ is in the Sahara Desert. He wanted me to give you something.”

I scoffed as he said my dad’s name with a Russian accent. “First off, Dad hasn’t gone by the name Jardani since he was 15. Nice try though. And secondly, why the hell would he give something to you, of all people, so that it could get to me?” I questioned. I could feel Victor’s eyes staring into the back of my head, trying to make sense of everything that he was hearing, but I didn’t care at the moment. This was much more interesting than anything that was going through Sabretooth’s mind about me.

Wade pulled off his Hello Kitty bookbag, which made me cringe, and opened it, pulling out a familiar looking book:  _ Russian Folk Tales  _ by Aleksandr Afanasyev. I swallowed softly and looked back up at the antihero, already knowing what was inside. He was staring at me through his stupid red mask. I knew what he wanted, so I opened the book and pulled out a gold coin, handing it to him. “Your task is done. Get the hell out and don’t come back.”

Wade grinned behind his mask and looked up at Victor and Logan. “It was great to see you again bag lady,” he teased, slipping the gold coin in his pocket. “You too kitty claws. We gotta have a date sometime. Maybe some S&M afterwards.” he backed up towards the door and waved at them before getting in a car. “Love you!”

I looked down at the book and sighed, tapping my thumbs on it before turning to the men behind me. “That guy is a fucking psycho,” I said, holding the book by my side. 

“Tell us about it,” Logan muttered, letting go of Victor.

The older brother stared at me, trying to get a read on me but having a bit of a tough time. He had heard everything Deadpool said: the 7 mil, Dad’s real name, his location. He also watched me give the man a gold coin, and I just knew it was bugging him that he didn’t know what it meant. However, I stared back at him silently, arching an eyebrow at him for a second when he held eye contact too long. “I think we can all agree that if he comes back, he’s dead.”

“He knows. He won’t come back,” I said, nodding to them to dismiss myself before turning and walking up the stairs to Peter’s room. Kurt would probably be chilling on his bed, but I just needed to talk to my best friend. A lot happened in the past couple hours; I needed someone I could trust. Usually my dad and I vented to one another about shit we couldn’t talk to anyone else about, but he could be dead in a ditch for all I knew. This book held so much more than folktales. It held memories and promises and gut wrenching truths; things I never wanted to think about, and in all my years, it had never left the library. Then, all of a sudden, it was in my hands with no information on why.

I knocked on the door and Peter pulled it open. He was in a plain gray t-shirt and some sweatpants, probably taking a break after the training session. His hair was still wet from a shower and I could tell he had been sleeping. “Blake? How was the mission?” he asked, rubbing his eye with one hand while the other rested on the doorknob.

“It was fine. Two mutants died on the other side, but it wasn’t our fault. Is Kurt in there?” I questioned, trying to keep my fingers from tapping nervously on the book. He shook his head. “Good. I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Peter asked, moving out of my way and letting me in. I walked in and was immediately hit with the smell of his cologne and the faint stench of sweat and sulfur. It definitely smelled like a boys’ room. “Hey, what do you need to talk about?”

I closed my eyes for a moment before turning to him. “Everything.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake finally gets to open up to someone.

Peter closed the door and turned to me. "What do you mean?" He asked. He didn’t deserve to be cursed with this knowledge, but I was done keeping secrets. My whole life has been nothing but one big secret. I just want to be able to talk to someone about all the shit I've seen and gone through; just one person.

"You might want to sit down," I sighed, sitting down on his bed and setting the book down beside me. The speedster was beside me in a flash. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"That's not true. I know you better than anyone else here," Peter chuckled.

I shook my head slightly. "Maybe you know me better than anyone else here, but that doesn't mean you know me," I said. He fell silent and waited for me to continue. The nerves were starting to build up, making me a bit dizzy and giving me a nauseated feeling, but I needed to do this. I decided to start with the book. Opening the front cover and peeling off a picture, I pulled out some coins.

"My father's name is John Wick. He comes from Belarus as an orphan, where he used to be Jardani Jovonovich. When he was young, he was taken in by a mafia and taught their ways. Now, he's the most feared assassin ever to walk the earth. They call him the Baba Yaga, some Russian witch that parents tell their children about to keep them in line or something like that. He started off as just some mafia kid that came from an orphanage and turned into a feared killer.

“Anyway, the assassin world is completely separate from the reality you grew up in, which means it has its own currency.” I held up a coin. “A coin can get you pretty much anything: a drink, a room. It takes more than one coin to get someone to do a job for you, but that’s a different can of worms. The assassins also have their own hotel, kind of like a base camp. It’s called the Continental. A lot of assassins stay there when they’re on the job or worried that someone is after them. You want a room, one gold coin gets you a night. Need a drink after a hard day? A gold coin and a trip to the bar buys you a round. Hell, a gold coin can even get you private information on another assassin when you’re in the Continental.

“There’s really only two rules in this world. The first one is that no blood can be spilled on Continental grounds. Like I said, the place is a safe haven for everyone; two assassins could be trying to kill each other in the streets, but buy each other drinks when they get in the Continental. I was originally going to go there, but nowhere is completely safe if someone is determined enough. Besides, who would look for the daughter of an assassin at an anti-kill boarding school for mutants?” I chuckled softly at the thought before sighing and going back to my explanation. “The second rule is that every marker must be honored. A marker is basically a blood oath to someone; a favor they can call in later. Even if it’s against High Table rules, whatever they’re asking has to be completed. That’s what got my dad into all this mess. He gave a marker to someone he shouldn’t have so that he could escape this world. Look where that got him.

“My dad gave a marker to Santino D’Antonio, some mafia boss he knew, so that he could get out of the assassin world. However, Santino came back with a demand on the marker; he wanted Dad to kill his sister. Now, Dad didn’t really care what he wanted, he just said no. He was out and he didn’t want an invitation back in, but D’Antonio was adamant, so he blew up our house while we were in the kitchen.”

I rolled up the sleeve on my right arm and showed him a long scar that went down from my elbow. “I landed on a piece of glass,” I explained, looking back at Peter. He looked confused, concerned, but not really angry. His eyebrows were furrowed and he wasn’t meeting my eyes, just staring at the scar on my arm. Sighing, I continued. “After that, Dad went through with the marker just to keep Santino from getting any more violent. He killed the guy’s sister and got a bounty on his head from the High Table… just like he expected.

“Oh, right, the High Table. They’re the highest authorities. They tell the rules, deal out punishments, et cetera. All the work the assassins do is under the Table, and Dad absolutely despises the High Table for what they’ve put him through so far. I’ve never actually met an assassin that liked the High Table, but everyone follows the rules because those who don’t usually don’t live very long. That’s what’s going on with my dad right now. After Santino D’Antonio forced him to put a bounty on his own head, my dad walked into the Continental and shot him right between the eyes. That broke rule numero uno. Now he’s excommunicado, which is basically where he’s cut off from getting help from anyone, and the bounty on his head doubled to 7 million. To keep people from using me against him, he put me in Xavier’s school using a marker. I’m just lucky that I’m a mutant.”

I reached over to the book and saw that Dad had taken everything but the picture and the coins out. His rosary and marker were gone, meaning that he was using every last resource he could find to stay alive.  _ At least he’s alive. _

“So, you’re an assassin?” Peter asked quietly, finally looking at me. He looked lost, maybe even a little scared. I didn’t want him to be afraid of me. I nodded slowly. “How many people have you killed?”

“12, including the three I killed in my room here,” I replied, rubbing my neck slightly. “It was all in self defense. I don’t take contracts.”

“Contracts?” he whispered.

I sighed. “Contracts to kill.”

He fell silent and shook his head slightly, not wanting to believe it. I knew that he was trying to make sense of everything along with trying to find the correct way to react. My worst fear was scaring him off. Peter was the first person that didn’t immediately put me in the weird kid category. He befriended me, put up with my usual silence and reluctance to talk about anything personal. I never had that at any other school I had been at. No one wanted to be friends with the kid who read all the time and always looked ready to hurt someone dare they come close. I couldn’t help my body language; it was bred into me through John Wick. He was the perfect assassin, pretty much, and he taught me, his daughter, to be completely alone where no one could hurt me. Peter wasn’t afraid of me though. He introduced himself to me, made jokes with me before he even knew me. Hell, he shared his music with me. It was a friendship I never wanted to get rid of.

“Peter?” I called. “I am  _ not _ a monster. I spent years trying to convince myself that. My father and I… we don’t have a choice. My father tried to get out once; He ended up with his wife, my step-mom, dead. She didn’t do anything wrong; she was sick, but it’s like we’re cursed. Then he tried to get out again, and our house was blown up. You have to understand… we want out.” I hated how my voice shook when I talked about Helen. She had been more of a mom to me than any woman in my life, and, of course, she was taken from Dad and I by cancer.

“You’re a killer, Blake. Your dad kills innocent people; he taught you to kill,” Peter said shakily.

I shook my head. “No, the people he kills are killers too.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered.

“Yes, it does,” I promised. “Peter, I would never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. You know me. Sure, I can be intense sometimes and I don’t exactly have a moral code like the Professor, but I  _ am  _ a good person. I do my homework, I make sure the little kids are alright when there’s no adults around. When have I ever betrayed you, or made you feel threatened for your life? Pete, you’re the only person I’ve ever told about this. What does that say about my trust? Would a killer trust someone like that?” I tried to keep my voice even, but it started to shake near the end. I couldn’t lose my best friend over this, but he deserved to know. He didn’t lie to me, and I wasn’t going to lie to him anymore. I pulled out the picture of Dad and Helen on the beach and showed it to him, giving it to him without hesitation. I trusted Peter not to destroy the last piece of physical evidence Dad and I had of her. “That’s my dad, and that’s Helen, my step-mom. This was about 3 months before she died. We took a trip to the beach for Dad’s birthday and I told them I would take their picture if they took me to a diner down the street.” I almost laughed at the memory, but I wasn’t in the mood.

He chewed his lip slightly, rubbing his knuckles together as he stared at the picture. This was a lot to take in at once, but it got easier, and I was hoping that the picture would help remind him that we’re still human. I just needed to help him understand. After that, he could make his decision, but I wanted him to understand it first. I reached out to push his hair from his face but stopped, pulling it back and resting it in my lap. For once, he didn’t have his goggles resting on his head, and his hair was a mess. It wasn’t a bad look on him.

“You have to promise me something,” he said, finally turning and meeting my eyes as he sat the picture on the bed. I nodded slightly and tugged on my necklace nervously. “You’ll stay out of that. You said you haven’t gotten a contract, right? Well, then no one is going to come looking for you. I know you’re better than this, better than your father. You can get yourself out of any situation; I’ve seen it before. So get yourself out of this before it’s too late.”

I nodded immediately. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Peter.”

He returned the nod before gently pulling me to his feet, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and hugging me. I immediately put my arms around his waist, biting my lip and resting my chin on his shoulder. He leaned his head against mine, kissing the side of my head lightly. “You are better than this.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face against his shoulder and hugging him tighter. “I hope so.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty and Blake are the most unlikely to be friends.

I spent the next four hours in Peter's room, just goofing off and getting my mind off things. Once we pulled away from the hug, he convinced me to lay with him and watch Brandon Farris on his laptop to help me relax. It wasn't romantic or even sexual, it was just… Nice. I ended up wrapped up in his taco blanket while he laid on my stomach, having pulled on a gray hoodie with the school emblem on it.

The book laid discarded on the side table throughout the whole youtube marathon, remaining closed to hide the secrets inside. Sure, I was worried about my dad, but I didn't feel like I needed to be at that moment. He was probably hiding away somewhere, regaining his strength and getting ready to kill his way through this situation. There wasn't anything I could do for him, so why should I make myself sick with worry?

About 2 hours in, Kurt opened the door and tilted his head a little when he saw us. We definitely looked like a couple, but I was trying to ignore that to keep things normal between us. The last thing I wanted to do was make it awkward. "What are you two doing?" He asked suspiciously.

"Watching Brandon Farris. Wanna join?" Peter offered, scooting over to make room on the bed for the blue elf. I did the same, offering him a pillow and blanket.

He grinned after a moment and 'ported beside me. "I would love to," he said, wrapping up in his own blanket burrito as I unpaused the video.

I couldn't help but glance down every now and then at Peter. His hair was still a mess from his earlier shower and nap, but he oddly pulled it off. Despite his hair being a rat's nest, he looked completely content. It was like I told him that my dad was a businessman, not an assassin. He seemed unbothered. I don't know what I expected, but it surely wasn't complete acceptance. Most people would turn their heads in disgust or tell me they never wanted to see me again, but not Peter. No, he told me I was better than this life. He told me I could get out if I just put my mind to it. There was never a moment in our friendship where he didn't believe in me, whether it be on little things like quizzes that I was sure to fail or the bigger fish, like when I killed 3 men. He knew I could get past it and rise above.

Son of a bitch I'm falling hard.

* * *

I woke up early Sunday morning, my back pressed against the wall and my head on Kurt's shoulder. Peter was still laying beside my stomach, fast asleep while cuddled up in the hoodie from last night. My arms were wrapped around my body to keep myself warm, but now the two boys beside me were putting off all the body heat I could ever need.

As I simply laid in bed, I noticed how quiet it was in the school. Usually, there was always someone hustling around and making some kind of noise, whether it be a student getting ready, or a teacher rushing to their room to grade some papers before their classes arrived. Right now, however, it seemed completely still. It was a moment I had to take advantage of, so I closed my eyes and started to focus on my breathing. Meditating was something I tried after my first kill, when the world had been so loud, so intense, so overwhelming. I had just needed to get out. Meditation gave me that escape, and after that, I tried to meditate every chance I got.

After about 10 minutes of silence, I decided it was time to get up and get ready before the other students started to rise. I really didn’t want anyone starting any drama about Peter, Kurt and I. That was something I could go the rest of my life without. So, after wiggling out from under the speedster and silently hopping down from the bed, I grabbed the book off the nightstand and looked down at Peter. He knew everything about me now…

_ He told you it would be okay. Just go take a shower, Blake. _

I opened the door to a completely abandoned hallway, which sent a wave of relief throughout my entire body. No one was up, thank God. Kitty and I’s room was in the next hallway, so I simply closed the door and made my way through the empty school silently. My footsteps were barely audible, but there was no one around, so there was no reason for me to really try to be quiet. If someone did come out of their room, I could always just tell them I was getting up early to do some studying. After all, midterms were coming up soon.

Luckily, nothing like that happened, and I got in my room without anyone stopping me. Honestly, I thought I was free. I was hidden away in my room, and the only ones who knew about my little sleepover with the boys were the ones who participated.

Man, I was wrong.

“Where the hell were you?” Kitty hissed from behind me, almost getting clocked in the face as I spun around.

“Jesus, Kit, you scared the shit out of me,” I whispered and I walked over to the bathroom and pulled my hair out of the pony tail it was in, tossing the book down on my bed as well. I started to brush it out, black hair sprinkling down as I shed like the dog I was. “What do you mean?”

“You were out all night,” she said. “You’re  _ never  _ out all night, because you’re actually responsible and, like, care about stuff.”

I chuckled when she said this and leaned on the counter, letting my hair fall over my shoulders. “You’re one to talk about staying out all night,” I said, raising my eyebrows. We were complete opposites, Kitty and I. She stayed out all night, I preferred to stay in and study. I never wore makeup, she knew everything about it. It was like we were born to hate each other, but we pulled a fast one on the universe and turned out to be good friends. “But if you have to know, Peter, Kurt and I were hanging out and fell asleep. You can ask them.” Sure, Kitty loved drama, but she would never spread it about her friends. I knew that much.

“You spent the night with Peter?” She asked, smirking slightly. I groaned. “Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t see anything between you two. You’re, like,  _ always  _ hanging out!”

“It’s called being best friends,” I replied, grabbing my toothbrush and starting to brush my teeth.

“Noooo it’s called denial. Blake, like, the  _ whole  _ school knows! Why can’t you two get together already?? You’d be the cutest couple! You’re so tough and responsible and he’s so… well… not. I mean, I guess he’s kinda cute, but, like, that’s really it,” she said, turning away from the bathroom and walking over to her bed, pulling out her phone and starting to scroll through it as she ranted on about Peter and I. She wasn’t the only one who told me we would be a good couple, but she was definitely the most hardcore shipper we had.

I spit out my toothpaste and snickered. “I’m telling him that,” I smirked, pulling my shirt off and tossing it in the hamper. We were both girls, and neither of us were ashamed, so showers usually happened with open doors so we could talk. However, today, I just wanted to shower in peace. “Bye Kitty!” I sang as I shut the door to the bathroom and pulled my jeans off.

As I turned on the shower, I thought back to the night before. There wasn’t anything romantic, right? I spent a lot of the earlier hours trying to hold myself together so I didn’t freak out around my best friend. After all, I was telling him that my father was a killer and that I was set to follow in his footsteps. I didn’t want to lose him.

_ Why was I so set on not losing him? _ After all, I had lost many people in my life. Friends, family, two moms, and probably my dad now. I was accustomed to losing people I cared about; what made Peter any different?

He made me feel something that I never felt before. Usually, I dreaded hanging out with people, but when it came to him, I was excited. There was never an instance where I rejected a chance to hang out with the energetic speedster. It was like a switch in me flipped, and, all of a sudden, I was a normal teenager. When I spent time with him, I didn’t feel the need to hide myself away or pretend to be someone I’m not. Now, I’m not saying that the X-Men were judgemental or harsh towards me, because they weren't, but Peter was different. I couldn’t tell you what was different about him. Maybe it was his eyes, or the way he grinned at me when he knew we were going to get in trouble, or perhaps even the way he started to literally shake with energy when he got too excited. There was just something about the speedster that made my stomach do somersaults. 

Once I got out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my body, I noticed that Kitty was dressed and ready for the day, which was unusual. It was a Sunday at 7:30 in the morning and she was dressed. “What’s the occasion?” I asked, pulling my hair from the bun it was in as I rummaged through my drawers for a pair of clothes. 

“You woke me up and got me all excited about you and Peter so now I can’t go back to sleep,” she practically pouted. I chuckled and shook my head, pulling some underwear on before turning my back and dropping my towel to get dressed.

“It’s not my fault you’re rooting for a couple that doesn’t even exist,” I scoffed, deciding on a pair of jeans, a gray, slightly form fitting shirt, and a black leather jacket that came to my hips. As I sat down on the bed to put on my boots, Kitty picked up the book on my pillow.

"You're such a nerd," she joked. "Russian Folktales?"

I stopped tying my laces and looked up. "It's from my father," I replied softly, reaching out and grabbing it. "He used to tell me these stories when I was a kid."

"What kind of stories?" Kitty asked curiously.

I paused for a minute to think. "Uh, one he liked to tell me about was Morozko, or Father Frost. Uh, kind of a Cinderella backstory: a father with a daughter marries a woman who loves her daughter much more than her step-daughter. Then the woman tells the man to put his daughter in the woods to freeze to death because she wants to get rid of her. When he does, Morozko comes to visit the girl and when he asks her if she's cold, she says that she was warm and content, even though she was freezing. He admired her stoicism and gave her a coat. Then he came back with the same question, and when she answered it the same, he gave her a box to sit on. He came back one last time, and when she told him that she was warm even in the freezing night, he gave her riches and jewels to fill the box she was sitting on. The woman then told the old man to go fetch his daughter's body, and when he came back with her alive and covered in riches, the woman made him put her own daughter out in the snow. However, her daughter was rude to Morozko and so he froze her to death. The man's daughter went on to have her own family, and the man visited his grandchildren often." Even as I told the story, I remembered sitting with my father as a little girl, no older than 4, while we watched it snow outside. It was the snow that reminded him of the story which he took much longer to tell than I did. "So, the moral of the story is to tough it out and don't expect help from everyone."

Kitty rubbed her hands together. "Russian stories are a lot harsher than Disney."

I laughed. "Disney softens up even English stories, Kit, but at least the morals in those are pretty light. Anyway, Dad always told me stories he was told, especially to get me to behave. You know how the boogeyman gets little kids who misbehave? Well, Babay eats children who don't want to eat their food. Dad used that one a lot when I was little. Mostly my fault; I hated some of the shit he cooked," I explained.

"Your dad actually told you scary stories to get you to behave?" Kitty asked. "What about when you grew out of believing fairy tales?"

"Yeah. It worked on him when he was small, so of course it would work on me," I replied before thinking for a minute. "I respect my father, and he respects me. It's always just been the two of us, and I never really wanted to make being a dad harder on him than it already was. Hell, he was raising a teenage girl by himself with no prior knowledge of parenthood." I paused for a moment to think a little more on the subject. "Plus my dad is a scary man. I wouldn't dare sneak out or talk back to him if I wanted to live to see the next day."

Kitty nodded slightly and sat down on her bed, giving me a slight smile. "You and your dad are, like, best friends."

"I know, Kitty," I replied, looking down at my feet again and pushing my hands through my hair. Everyone who knew Dad was always shocked when they saw how good of a father he really was. It was like they all expected him to beat me into a killing machine. "I know."


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guys look! I see a plot forming!
> 
> My body wouldn't let me sleep until this was posted so I hope it's up to standards.

After I managed to escape Kitty (I don't know why I say that; I love the girl to death), I made my way down to the kitchen to get some breakfast. I was starving, probably from using my powers the day before and not refueling afterwards, so my mind was set on food the moment I got out of the shower.

When I got downstairs, the kitchen was still vacant except for one inhabitant. Victor was standing by the counter, sipping on a beer while he stared out the window. It looked like he had been up for a while -no shocker there- so I just walked past him and grabbed an apple.

"You're up early," he said, not even looking down at me. We were unlikely friends. Well, friends wasn't the right word for the relationship I had with the man. He knew what it was like to be completely alone in a world where everyone wanted to kill you, and that sympathy was the last thing I wanted.

It first hit me when he held onto my switchblade after the attack. No random guy would've done that. No, Victor knew what it was like to be completely defenseless. He knew that, no matter how small that switchblade was, it was better than nothing.

We shared more than we cared to admit.

Once I grabbed an apple, I washed off the fruit before taking a bite. "Same goes for you."

He shrugged and dropped his empty beer can in the trash beside him. "What the hell was Wade doin' here, and why the hell did he know ya?"

"Wade worked with my father when I was little, and he ended up watching me for a night while Dad was away,” I explained, pushing my hair back so that it wouldn’t be in my face. It was getting a bit long for my taste. “I promise, it was not a fun experience.”

Victor scoffed and sat down at the table. “I coulda told ya that,” he muttered. “What about that book?”

I knew what he was referring to, but I still fell silent for a moment to ponder my answer. I could tell him the truth and risk him getting pissed at me, or I could lie and still risk him figuring it out and getting even more pissed at me.  _ Pick the lesser evil, Blake _ . “I don’t see how that’s your business,” I said, shutting down for the first time in a while and picking the largest evil in the equation. Usually, I was an open book around my teammates. They deserved to know as much of the truth as I could give them.

Victor wasn’t ready for that knowledge.

“Ya eat and sleep in the same buildin’ as I do. It’s my business,” he argued, narrowing his eyes. He knew what he was doing, how he was pushing me, but he didn’t care. Never before was he easy on me, and he wasn't about to change.

“Fine. Tell me what happened to you while you were under experimentation and I’ll gladly tell you about the book,” I snapped back. “Why don’t you explain to me in full detail about the worst time in your life before I explain mine?” He glared at me with a look I’d never seen from him before, but it didn’t scare me. He wasn’t the worst man I’d ever faced. After all, galas with assassins and mafia bosses tended to desensitize a ten year old girl.

When he didn’t reply, I finished my apple off and tossed the core out, walking out the door and not turning back to see if he was going to follow. Didn't matter to me what he did; I was pissed and didn't want to deal with his sorry ass right then.

People at the school tended to underestimate me. Besides the break-in when I first arrived, I usually kept a thick line between my assassin persona and my private one. I didn’t like my other side; she was dark, and she didn’t give a damn about the people around her. She was cold, cut off from any emotion. She only came out when I got in a fucked situation and needed to fight my way out, and then I was left with the consequences of her actions. Nothing good ever happened when I had to switch personas. Usually, I was left with some kind of emotional trauma that I buried under silence and knowledge.

Next thing I knew, I was standing outside the mansion in the cool, crisp air of the morning. It was quiet, and the grass was still wet from dew. I took a deep breath in and looked down at my phone. Dad hadn’t texted me in weeks, maybe even months. The only sign of him was that book, and it could have very well been a death certificate from Wade.

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair, sitting down on a nearby bench. The cool air cleared my thoughts for a moment, and suddenly I was in the eye of a hurricane. I hadn't ever been out in the yard this early; I understood why Logan was always so set on staying outside throughout the night time hours. It was quiet, peaceful. There weren't any children screaming and playing, or teens chattering about everything and nothing at the same time. The only noise outside was the soft chirping of birds and the wind rustling the trees around me. I had always appreciated Mother Nature, but that appreciation was stronger now than it ever was before.

I looked at the ground and placed my hands in my hair, exhaling slowly as I thought about my situation. I was losing my control, getting too close to the people here. When I was the outcast, there was never a problem of me getting too close and losing my cool around anyone. Hell, I could go silent for days and no one would even notice. Now, I have friends, people who care about me. They would notice if I were to change. They could get under my skin, destroy me from the inside out. It was a power that I wasn't sure I wanted anyone to have.

I guess that's the sacrifice I have to make to have friends as great as the X-Men.

Then everything moved so fast that I couldn't comprehend it.

There wasn't any time for me to even fight back as a hand was forced over my mouth and a needle was inserted into my neck, forcing painful drugs into my system and immediately making me woozy. My body shut down against my will: my eyes closing and my limbs falling away from the hand that covered my mouth. The last thing I remembered was a dark chuckle that would haunt my dreams for the rest of my days.

Sure, having friends and finally not being alone was nice, but was it worth letting my guard get overwhelmed with emotions just long enough to get kidnapped?


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet for just a moment; a yellow sky" -Lin-Manuel Miranda

I was freezing. Not just a chill, but full on shaking. The room was probably around 50 degrees and I could no longer feel the warmth from the leather jacket, leaving me in a thin gray shirt against the ice cold room. I couldn't remember where I was, though, nor why the hell Xavier would make the school so cold. In fact, the school tended to remain on the warmer side because of the pure body heat of all the students grouped together.

As I finally pulled my eyes open, I immediately noticed I wasn't in the school. No, the school didn't have plain concrete walls or a bloodstained floor. I hadn't ever seen an empty room in that building; they took up all the room they could so that there would be space for people like me. However, this room was completely void of anything except the hard wooden chair I was tied to, which was seated right in the center.

I groaned softly as I pulled lightly on the binds over my wrists. The drug, whatever it was, was starting to wear off, returning my last memories in a fuzzy haze. I had been sitting outside after snapping at Victor -why did I do that?- and I remembered how nice the cool air felt then. Now, I would do anything to get back to that stuffy mansion feeling.

At least I wouldn't be alone.

" _ She's awake _ !" A man yelled in Russian, causing me to curse softly under my breath. Russian meant assassins. Assassins meant I was dead meat.

"Ah, perfect. We didn't think you would ever wake up," said a young man as he strolled out into the sunshine that was provided by the skylight. He had blond, obviously dyed hair and dark brown eyes, but I couldn't remember him from my past. "Blake Wick, the daughter of the boogeyman. You were surprisingly easy to capture once we found you." 

I twisted my wrists in the binds, glaring at him silently through the gag around my mouth. Great, another antagonist who decided he was going to monologue for 10 minutes before getting to the real point of my kidnapping. It wasn't like I didn't already know, but I wasn't exactly stoked to hear his lengthy lecture about his thoughts about my father.

_ At least he's not torturing you, Blake. Little miracles. _ God, Logan was starting to rub off on me.

"I'm sure you're aware of the bounty on your father's head. However, it seems he's dropped off the grid. The Baba Yaga is hiding in the forest, away from society, and I think you know where he is," the man said, walking over and squatting down a little to meet my eyes before he took the gag off. "Make this easy on me, Miss Wick. You're so pretty; I would hate to scar you up."

I glared at him, my father's signature bitchface making an appearance. Despite Dad's occupation, I hadn't ever been kidnapped and held hostage. I had no previous knowledge in this situation. Usually, if someone were to break into the house and try to take me, either my father or I or both of us would fight them off. He was always so set on making sure that it never happened that I never expected it.

That was my first mistake.

A sharp pain, nothing compared to what was going to come, erupted from my cheek as he slapped me. The sting of his ring burrowed deep into my skin, causing me to grit my teeth as my head was tossed to the side. I returned my gaze to him as the burn faded to a dull ache.

"You'll talk, little one. Loyalty will get you far, but everyone has their breaking point," the young man said, smirking at me. He had a long scar from his temple to his lower cheekbone, probably from his father or his boss. This was a harsh world, after all.

I felt my other persona come out, prepared to take the pain and grit my way through for my father. He would do the same for me, no questions asked, so who would I be if I broke? Hell, I didn't even know where he was, but I wasn't going to tell them that. I had to push away the panic, forget the hopelessness, and ignore my body screaming at me to make the pain stop just to trick them into thinking I knew Dad's location. I prepared my mind to be ravaged by overwhelming pain, and all of a sudden I was calm. Nothing was going to stop what was about to happen. He was going to torture me, and I was going to keep my mouth shut; it was simple.

I watched helplessly as a grunt made his way over to me, grabbing onto the chair and sending his fist across my face with just enough force to make me dizzy, but not enough to knock me out.

He was just getting started. He wanted me to know that he could time everything perfectly so that I would be awake for hours.

As another punch was delivered to my other cheek, I sent myself back to the school. I saw Kitty, all bright eyed and bushy tailed as she rambled on about Kurt. The next hit brought me to Scott and Jean holding hands while walking through the hallway, smiling at me as they passed by because I was their friend, and they were genuinely happy to see me. A blow to my stomach showed me Logan smoking in the backyard, just admiring nature because he and Victor were born from it. Three punches to the abdomen later, I saw the professor making every student feel special, telling them that they were made the way they were made for a reason, and that they should never change. No one ever told us that, but Charles would never let us feel outcasted in his presence. Sharp coughing from the hits let me see little kids running through the halls, dashing between older students and just being kids; something so basic but so cherished among mutants.

Finally, I saw Peter. He wasn't brought to me by a punch, or kick, or yell. I just saw him smiling at me, rambling about how blueberry muffins were superior and how he could totally eat 20 of them in 3 seconds. His eyes were shining with excitement as he zoomed around the kitchen, grabbing random sweets and sipping on a Dr. Pepper. I felt his hand rest on my arm, warm and gentle, as he met my eyes and for once, seemed still. 

A knife slicing across my cheek brought me back to reality. A dark, cold reality where Peter wasn't smiling at me, Kitty wasn't talking to Kurt, and Logan wasn't smoking in the backyard. I wasn't at the school anymore; I was sitting in an abandoned, lonely room while taking a beating from a grown man. My stomach ached from the hits it had taken and my nose was bleeding down onto my lip. The man in front of me sliced across my collarbone, staining my gray shirt that Kitty told me I looked "drool worthy" in. I would've smiled at the memory if there wasn't the sudden, screaming pain of a knife in my shoulder, eliciting a loud cry before I controlled my reaction to only grunts.

I heard my father's voice echoing in my mind, a memory from one of my training sessions when I was small.  _ Don't show them your pain, Blake. It only drives them to hurt you more. Show them your resilience, your will. It'll throw them off and give you a chance to escape. _

The knife was twisted and I gritted my teeth so hard I was sure they would crack. Where the hell were the X-Men? I was one of them, surely they wouldn't just let me die at the hands of an assassin. I knew I wasn't a member for long, but they were warming up to me. Even Rogue, a girl who seemed to hate me from the start, had started treating me with more respect.

_ You can't rely on others to save you. You're the only hero of your story. No one can stop you if you don't let them, Blake,  _ my father had told me one night when I went to his room in fear of someone breaking in. I couldn't have been older than 10, but I thought the branch against the window was someone scraping at it from the outside. Instead of criticizing me, telling me that I was being pathetic, Dad let me crawl under the thin sheets of his bed and pulled me against his side. He told me that it was only okay to be afraid around him, and when he wasn't there, I had to dig down deep inside to find the anchor of my soul that kept me stable in harsh waters.  _ You have to be careful who you trust, Blake. Anyone could hurt you. _

_ Won't you always be there, Dad? _ I had asked. God, I was so naïve.

He had sighed, pulling me closer and kissing my head. He had promised to never lie to me, and he intended to keep that.  _ Not always, little one. _

I grunted as the knife was twisted one more time, a loud but unintelligible voice yelling in my face. I wasn't listening to him. He wouldn't be saying anything important anyway. He was a grunt, worth nothing in this world; he didn't have any information that could help me. No, I was focused on how tight the bonds were, how stable the chair was, how close he was, how much I could wiggle my legs.  The only person who was going to get me out of here was me.

At least, that's what I thought until it all went black.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn for the worse for Blake, but not in the way you might think.
> 
> (I wrote half this chapter instead of doing the assload of homework I have)

As my heavy eyes slowly opened, I immediately noticed the difference in the sun. I was kidnapped early this morning, but it was obvious that dusk was approaching. How hard did someone have to hit me to get me to sleep for that long? Hell, I guess it was making up for all the sleep I lost so that I could study for the midterms.

When I finally peeled my eyes from the ground, I came face to face with the man from before. Beside him were his grunts; two brutes who probably had three brain cells between them.  _ Again, it’s Logan speaking through me.  _ "Good evening, Blake," the man hummed, walking over to me from where he had been leaning on a table. Was that there before? I could've sworn that it wasn't. "I see that our first method didn't work very well on you. I didn't think it would, resilience is genetic, after all. No, that was more so to get you thinking."

_ I don't have time for this bastard's monologue. _

Using my peripherals to gage all my surroundings, I immediately took note of a door on the far left of the room and the skylight above us. Inside the room, I could see 2 grunts and the boss man. There were surely more henchmen outside, but I could deal with that later.

First, I just had to get out of that damn chair.

I looked back up at my captor as he waved his henchmen over. "Anything to tell us, little one?" He asked, smirking as he sat down against the table again.

Two large hands laid themselves on my shoulders, weighing me down much more than expected. I glanced up and spit out some blood from where I had bit my tongue during the previous beatings. "Fuck. Off."

As one of the men cocked his fist back, preparing to hit me again, a window from behind me shattered. I heard the familiar whistling of a bullet as it shot past me and into his head, splattering blood across my face. Immediately, I threw myself to the side to get out of the sniper’s view, hoping that it was someone on my side and not someone with just really bad aim.

I finally got my hands free of the ropes around them and stood up, running at the nearest goon and throwing my legs around his waist before yanking myself downward. I was beaten to hell and even something as simple as breathing hurt almost unbearably, but this was my only chance at freedom. I wasn’t going to waste it. No, instead, I let myself take the fall while choking out the assassin with my legs. As my captor went for a knife, I immediately took control of his mind, finally able to concentrate long enough to do so. His thoughts flooded into my weak, tired brain, but I immediately forced him to stab himself in the chest twice before letting him go, snapping the man’s neck while he was in a headlock with my legs.

I jumped up and turned around, grabbing the gun from the henchman’s waist, but as soon as I turned around there were two loud bangs and I couldn’t breathe. My legs gave out almost immediately as all the wind was knocked out of me, sending me tumbling to the floor. I hadn’t ever felt anything like this before. The whole world went quiet for a moment as exploding pain erupted from my chest and stomach, and, as I laid on my back, I reached up to feel where the pain was coming from. There were two holes in my body that shouldn’t have been there.

No matter how badly I wanted to stand and fight through the pain, I couldn’t move. It was like those two bullets completely paralyzed me, even though I was sure they didn’t hit any major nerves. It felt like my body wasn’t even my own, because no matter how much I tried, or how panicked I became, my limbs refused to move.

So instead, I laid on the cold concrete floor of a warehouse that was probably in the middle of nowhere, and I thought. I thought about the school, and the students, and the teachers, and my father. I thought about what could’ve become of me if I had been faster. Maybe I could’ve become a teacher at the school, or maybe I would’ve just turned into my father reincarnated and followed his footsteps into a life of organized crime. He wouldn’t have wanted that for me. After all, it was always him pushing me to do better in school and make more friends and be more normal simply so I could escape and have the life that he never did. There was never a moment when he was jealous of my opportunities. If there was, he never showed it. Nope; he just encouraged me and pushed me to be the best version of myself.

And then there I was, laying on the cold concrete floor of a warehouse in the middle of nowhere, without any opportunities in sight, while he fought like the warrior he was in some Middle Eastern country.

I finally got my hands to move and pressed lightly on the wounds, causing another wave of pain to course through my body, before I got even more tired than before. I was losing a lot of blood; there was no way I was going to live another half hour. I didn’t want to die here, all alone where I would be found by some meth head who was cracked out of his mind. No, I just wanted to go home.

“I don’t wanna die here,” I whispered to myself, trying to move my body one more time.

Suddenly, a familiar blue face came into my vision as two large hands pressed on my stomach and chest, pinning my hands there as well. “Don’t worry, Blake. You won’t,” Dr. McCoy whispered, looking up and yelling something unintelligible. I didn’t really listen to anything else that he said, since my body immediately relaxed when I saw him. He looked back down at me and shook his head. “Don’t go to sleep, Blake. Wake up. Look at me, kiddo."

All I heard were gunshots as everything faded to black.

* * *

When I woke up, I was no longer in the warehouse. No, I knew I was dreaming. First of all, because my body was completely void of any bruises or wounds, but also because where I was didn't even exist anymore. Santino D'Antonio blew up this house a week before I went to the school. It was nothing but ashes in the ground.

I walked into the kitchen and looked around. Everything was the same as we had left it: photos on the fridge, counters completely cleaned off, a table set for two. It looked like nothing bad had ever happened.

Suddenly, I felt someone's eyes on me and immediately turned around. Sitting at the island was Helen, my step-mother and possibly the only woman in my childhood who treated me as her own daughter. She looked healthy; her brown hair was sitting perfectly on her head and a small smile was gracing her features. "Blake," she said softly, motioning for me to come sit with her. I felt like my whole body was frozen. This couldn't be real; dead people don't come back to life simply because you miss them. That was a hard truth that I had to learn. "Come sit with me. We don't have forever, kiddo."

I walked over to the island and sat down across from her. "Mom?" I asked softly. She had only been with Dad for about a year when I decided she was worthy of the name. Anyone who could put up with me and Dad and still say that being with us was the best part of their day deserved that title. "What are you doing here?"

"The real question is: what are you doing here?" She asked softly. Where was 'here'?

I looked down at my hands as they folded together on the counter. "Am I dead?"

"No, sweetheart," Helen promised, reaching out and taking my hand. She was warm, just like I remembered. "Not yet. I'm just visiting you."

"I was tortured, Mom," I whispered. "Dad… He can't take another heartbreak, can he?"

She sighed, gently rubbing her thumb over my knuckle. I could tell she didn't want to talk about death right now, considering I was probably on the brink of it. "We don't have long. Let's not talk about death. What about this boy at school?" She asked, giving me a small smirk. She died when I was 12, before I was really finding boys attractive. Most of the boys I met in middle school were terrified of me. 

"You've been watching over me," I chuckled, gently squeezing her hand. When she gave me a look to continue, I did. "His name's Peter. I don't want to lie to you, Mom; I don't know how I feel about him."

"That's the fun part of dating. Do you think I knew how I felt when I met some rugged, definitely shady guy with a scratch on his face at a bar?" She asked. "Turns out, that mean-looking son of a bitch was the nicest guy and the best father, and him and his adorable daughter would change my life forever."

I bit my lip to hold back my emotions. "Dad misses you. He can't even talk about it…"

"I've been watching, Blake. I know what happened," Helen promised. She didn't look angry or upset, just understanding and almost sad. There was never a time when she shamed Dad for his profession, or when she was disgusted or even scared. No, she was always understanding. She just wanted the best for him, and for me. Those two reactions are completely different.

"Why didn't you just tell us? We could've gotten you help, Mom." God, I hated how my voice was cracking and shaking like a boy in puberty. I wanted to be strong around her, not a crying mess. There was a time for mourning and a time to suck it up. But right now, sitting across from the only mother figure I ever had, I wondered why she didn't tell us she was sick. "You were the best thing that ever happened to us…"

She looked down to me gently, rubbing my knuckles with her hand. "I couldn't let you two watch me die. I didn't want my last months to be me stuck in a bed and watching my family suffer. You had been through enough.”

I bit my lip as I looked down, trying to refrain my tears from spilling out. I didn’t want to cry in front of her. “So much has happened… it doesn’t feel like three years have passed. It feels like a hundred.”

“Blake,” she said, immediately getting me to look up and meet her eyes. She was calm, scarily calm, but determined to do something. What could put that kind of look in Helen’s eyes? “You have to make a choice soon.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. Where was I? What was even happening? I knew I was shot twice, but Helen said I wasn’t dead. So, did that mean this was all a dream? Was I talking to Helen or was she just a figment of my imagination while my body tried to recover from the trauma I had suffered? “What choice?”

She locked eyes with me, holding my hands tightly in her’s. When she was alive, she would always tell me that my hands were freezing cold before taking them into hers so that they would warm up. “Do you want to keep fighting?” She asked softly. “Do you want to show them that it’s almost impossible to kill a Wick, or do you want to stay with me?”

I looked down at the table, weighing my options. I missed Helen with almost everything in me. She was the mother I never had, the balm for Dad’s wounded soul. In the short 5 years she was with us, she changed everything about my childhood. The training, the lack of relationships, that all practically stopped when Dad met her. Whenever she saw Dad and I getting ready to train after a long day, she would always tell Dad,  _ “She’s just a kid, John. Let her be a kid. Skip training today and come watch Shrek with us.” _ The thing is, Dad would listen. He would throw me over his shoulder and run up the stairs, Helen jogging along behind us, before tossing me on the couch so that we could watch a movie that we had seen a million times before. With Helen, everything was so normal.

But my father couldn’t do this by himself. Everyone around him had either died or been killed, and I wasn’t about to just follow along because I felt safe. No, that wasn’t the Wick way. That wasn’t how I was raised. Dad raised a survivor; someone who could take the hits that life would throw. He knew that nothing was ever going to be easy for me and he still raised me to be just like him, but better. He raised me to thrive.

“I’m sorry Mom. I can’t leave Dad all alone,” I whispered, looking back up at Helen for possibly the last time until my real death.

She smiled at me, bringing my hands up and kissing them. “You can’t die before your first kiss, anyway. Let’s hope and pray that this Peter treats you right. I wish I could be there to see your father’s face when he finds out you’re dating,” she smiled, winking playfully at me. I smiled back, too lost in this dream to even correct her about the relationship. There was so much for me to say and explain, but I couldn’t get anything out. All I could do was sit there and stare into those dark brown eyes that I would miss for the rest of my days. “You can tell me everything when you see me again, baby girl. I love you. I love you both. Make sure your father remembers that.”

“I will, Mom,” I promised, feeling those damn tears starting to well again as I said the goodbye I should’ve said 3 years ago. “We love you too.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I think this is the last SUPER long one. I thought about splitting it into two but I think it's better as one. Hope you enjoy!  
> This is from 3rd POV, which is a bit different than usual.
> 
> The sniper's identity is revealed as Blake is finally rescued from her Hell on Earth.

John Wick was a man of focus, commitment, and sheer will. He was known to kill mercilessly, leaving no survivors to tell the true tale of what happens when you fuck with the Baba Yaga. There were stories of him killing three men in a bar with a pencil and surviving an impossible task given to him by a man who simply wanted him dead. If you asked anyone about these stories, they would only tell you one thing: everything you’ve heard was watered down. No one wanted to face him, because they knew the last thing they would see were his dark eyes staring into their souls. Throughout the entire underground world, John Wick’s name brought fear to the hearts of assassins.

It was hard to believe the stories when he was seen sitting at his daughter’s bedside, silently watching her with a look of pure desperation in his eyes.

Charles didn’t know much about the world from which the Wicks came from. Erik didn’t want to explain everything and the professor wasn’t one to push. However, when his lover talked about how dangerous John Wick was, Charles felt an almost animalistic fear coming off him. Not many things frightened Erik, but the Baba Yaga was an exception. The stories that Erik told him were nauseating tales of small armies being murdered by a single man after the death of his dog and with the severe beating of his daughter. Charles could barely hold down his dinner when he heard of the time he used a pencil to kill three men at a bar. It wasn’t like the professor was squeamish, but he didn’t need a movie theater to tell him exactly what that would look like; he had seen enough fights to know.

The disabled professor slowly rolled into the hospital room, careful not to scare the man in front of him. He had been through enough in the past 3 hours. Getting Blake back to the mansion had been a scary endeavour. First of all, her father had gunned down every man in a mile radius as the X-Men raided the building before demanding to see his daughter. He almost looked demonic when he spoke to them, the shadows mixing with the blood staining his skin and clothes. When Hank tried to tell him that she was bleeding out and there was no time for visitations, something changed deep within the assassin. His eyes went dark and he turned to the doctor, his finger sliding away from the trigger as he asked in a frighteningly calm voice, "then why the hell are you standing here instead of helping my daughter?”

On the jet, Hank almost lost Blake twice. If it hadn’t been for her father stepping in and performing some odd procedure, there was no doubt that the girl would’ve died from her wounds. Other than stepping in to save his daughter, John Wick was silent. He was covered in blood and standing towards the end of the plane, simply watching everything that happened with a close and watchful eye. As Charles looked closer, he noticed that the man was missing his ring finger, and that it had obviously been cauterized by a hot metal rod. His face was cut up and bloody, and his slightly slouched posture gave off that he had been shot or stabbed in the abdomen.

The only members allowed on the rescue mission were Hank, Logan, Storm, Erik and the Professor. They knew that it was going to be bloody and couldn’t allow the teenagers to see more than they usually did. Even though it could be debated on whether allowing the younger X-Men to fight was ethical or not, Charles cared for his students and wouldn’t ever allow them to see their friend tortured, shot, and left for dead. However, he knew that it scared the older members, too, especially when he saw that Storm had covered her mouth and Logan had immediately paused for a moment. Hank, however, rushed to the girl’s aid, getting a few words to the teen before she passed out from blood loss. Logan immediately jumped into action as well, using any medical knowledge he had gotten from his many years on Earth to help Hank stop the blood flow. Storm and Erik went back to the plane to get a stretcher while Charles used his telepathy to search for the sniper who was responsible for the dead bodies surrounding them. He had no idea that he would see Blake’s father walking through the door minutes later, practically soaked in blood and with a dangerous look on his face.

However, now they were back at the mansion. Blake was stabilized, thanks to Dr. McCoy and blood that John donated without hesitation. He had given as much blood as was needed, even as Hank told him that he couldn’t safely donate anymore. “I can do it. Trust me,” John had told them, not even dizzy after donating blood and losing a ridiculous amount of it himself.

Logan and Victor were instantly suspicious of the man. He hadn’t said anything to anyone except for Hank, and that was only when words were absolutely necessary. He didn't flinch when he saw Victor, nor did he act nervous around Logan. To the brothers' surprise, John was surprisingly calm. He didn't cause a big scene when he got in the mansion, but instead he settled down beside his daughter once she was stabilized and ready for visitation. He didn't move again after that. Sometimes he would raise her bloody knuckles to his lips and give them a gentle kiss, or he would reach out and brush her dark hair away from her face when the AC kicked in and blew it forward. He didn’t take his eyes off the beaten girl, but the brothers could smell the death that he had caused and wouldn’t let him be alone with his daughter. One of them were constantly somewhere nearby, monitoring his actions. He didn’t seem to mind too much, but, then again, no one could get a read off this man.

John glanced up when Charles got to the other side of the bed. “Mr. Wick?” the professor called. “You seem to need medical assistance. Shall I call Hank in to have a look at you?”

“I’ve already been stitched up. I just haven’t changed,” he replied.

“We have showers and clean clothes if you would like to freshen up,” Charles offered, not getting a response. “Mr. Wick, your daughter would want to wake up to see you clean, not soaked in blood.”

John stood up, looking down at his daughter and gently pressing a kiss on her forehead as he leaned up. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said. His voice was rough, like he didn’t talk a lot, which wouldn’t really surprise Charles.

“Storm will watch over your daughter for you, if you’d like,” the professor offered, nodding to the woman who was already making her way over to check Blake’s vitals. She turned to John and gave him a gentle smile.

“Your daughter is in one of my classes. She’s brilliant, Mr. Wick. You should be very proud,” Ororo praised, hoping it would help him relax a bit. It was obvious that he felt completely out of place in this building, and the watchful eyes of Victor and Logan definitely weren’t giving him a homely vibe.

The assassin nodded slightly, his dark hair falling into his face a bit. “I am. Thank you,” he replied as Logan stood up.

“I’ll show ya to the showers,” he offered, making eye contact with John. This man’s eyes were dark, cold, trained. He had seen things that no human being should have to see in one lifetime, and probably felt them too. His eyes were the ones of an involuntary killer; someone who was raised into a life where they had no choice. Logan knew the feeling. “They’re right down the hall.” John nodded slightly and they exited the room, the former barely containing a limp as he followed Logan down the hallway leading to the showers.

“He’s… charming,” Storm said sarcastically as he left. “I thought you said he was a mutant.”

“He is,” Erik replied, leaning on the doorway and sighing softly. “But no one knows his mutation. Blake's probably the only one he's told about it. It's so subtle that he can hide it on a day to day basis, which is probably why he's survived this long, honestly."

Charles sighed softly when he heard this and shook his head. John was the first mutant that the professor had met that didn't give off that mutant signal in his brain. He either knew exactly how to control his powers and hid it, or he was in such denial about his mutation that his body even believed it.

Things were silent for a couple of minutes as everyone started to busy themselves with things that could be done around the medical wing. Erik left to go and prepare an explanation for the student body. Storm and Hank started to clean everything from bloody rags used to wipe Blake's face to small tools they used to get the bullets out. Victor stood to go get some air, something obviously bugging him. The professor decided he would have Logan act on it later; right now his student needed him.

Charles gently took Blake's hand, taking a nearby rag and cleaning the blood off her knuckles. He made sure to be gentle as the rag started to slowly wash the blood away until it was gone, to which the professor disposed of it and simply sat at his student's side while her father was away. He doubted she would wake up, but if she did, he wasn't going to let her be alone.

"Mein Gott, Blake."

The professor looked up from the bed to see Kurt, Peter, and Kitty standing at the door. The elf had spoken out of pure shock when he saw his friend before Peter suddenly zoomed over to Blake's side, causing a gust of wind to blow her hair into her face. "What happened?" He asked, looking at the adults in the room.

"She was kidnapped and shot when she tried to escape," Hank explained gently. He could see the emotion in the boy's eyes. It wasn't a secret that the two were crushing on each other, Peter more so on Blake than vise versa. They had a connection, and seeing his best friend, someone who made herself seem invincible, so broken down was shattering. "She's going to recover. There's no severe head trauma. Right now she's knocked out by the pain medicine."

Kitty wrapped her arms around Kurt almost immediately, hiding her face in her boyfriend's neck as he looked down at their teammate. Kurt had seen plenty of death and he'd been given plenty of beatenings, but this was something he hadn't ever seen before. Blake's cheek was swollen and purple, holding her right eye shut, and what he could see of her chest was bandaged and wrapped like a cast. There were small cuts along her cheeks and forehead, but what really got his attention was the bandage wrapped around her shoulder. She wasn't just kidnapped and shot; Blake was tortured.

"Who could do that to her?? She's, like, the nicest tough girl!" Kitty cried, pulling away from Kurt to express her emotions. "Whoever did this needs to be put away!! Forever!"

Storm gently placed her hand on Kitty's arm before she could go on a rant. "The men who hurt Blake are dead now, Kitty. Come on, you two can sit with her until her father returns."

"Her dad's here?" The girl whispered, pausing for a moment. Peter looked up as well, looking shocked. From what Blake had told them, John was a ghost at the moment. He didn't exist because he couldn't exist; there were too many people after him.

"Yes, and he is very concerned and, frankly, quite protective of Blake. I think he needs his space with her when he gets back. He's been surrounded since he got here, and I can tell he's a bit tired of it," Ororo explained, gently patting Kurt on the arm as she led them in. When they got to the bed, she placed her hand lightly on Peter's shoulder. "Peter, are you alright? You're unusually quiet."

"My best friend was tortured and shot and I thought she had just gone out for the day. I should've known better, Ororo. She… Blake would never sneak away without telling someone. How could I be so stupid?" He whispered, looking up at the teacher. 

Storm sighed. Of course the boy was going to blame himself. It was such a Lehnsherr move. "Peter, this is not your fault. This is no one's fault except the men who did this to her. You can't let yourself believe anything else," she said, gently rubbing her thumb in circles on his shoulder. He was scared out of his mind, that was obvious, but she wasn't going to let him hate himself over something he couldn't have prevented.

Peter didn't respond for a moment, simply taking Blake's hand and sighing. He was contemplating his answer so that he wouldn't get a full essay on why he shouldn't hate himself. "Whoever killed the men who did this gave them too much mercy," he said, shaking his head.

"Torturing isn't a good pastime."

Everyone whirled around to see John Wick standing in the doorway. He had changed from his black and white suit to a plain white tee shirt and gray sweats, and his hair was still damp from the shower he had obviously just taken. He walked over to the small group and around the bed, sitting down slowly before looking to the teens. "You must be Kurt, Katherine, and Peter."

"Yes sir," Peter replied, causing everyone to turn their heads in shock. Since when has Peter Maximoff ever called someone 'sir'? He didn't even call his own father 'sir', and he was one of the most notorious super-villains ever. "Blake told me about you. She missed you."

"How do you know our names?" Kitty asked.

John glanced over at his daughter before looking back up to the teen in front of him. "I've been keeping tabs on her."

"Kitty, Kurt, will you come with me to tell Jean and Scott of the outcome?" Storm asked, nodding to Charles as he wheeled out of the room to go help Erik. John needed space, but everyone knew that it would be almost impossible to remove Peter from the room. When the news about Blake’s disappearance reached his ears, something in him that hadn’t ever been seen before came out. He was talking a rate faster than anyone could understand, and his pacing practically dug holes into the floor of the mansion. No one could get him to sit down or relax while his friend was missing, no matter how hard they tried.

As the three left the room, John looked up to Peter. “You must be Blake’s boyfriend,” he said calmly.

Peter looked up immediately, red painted across his cheeks. “No, no, I’m not her boyfriend. We’re just really close,” he promised. Despite the accusation John had just delivered, the man didn’t seem angry or even judgemental towards the teen. John never wanted to be the dad that kept his daughter back from boys or sheltered her from the world. No, he wanted to be the dad that didn’t have to worry about his daughter’s safety around any boy she went out with because if anything happened, she would take care of it herself. He wanted to be the dad that could clap a boy on the shoulder, smirk, and tell him what would happen if he were to hurt his daughter.

“When you do decide to go out with her, don’t be afraid of me,” the older man said, immediately confusing Peter. Who  _ wouldn’t _ be afraid of John Wick? “Be afraid of my daughter. If you try to hurt her, she’ll kill you. I’ll just hide the body for her.”

Peter smiled to himself when he heard this. He couldn’t explain why he thought this was at all funny, because it wasn’t. He was meeting Blake’s dad, the famous Baba Yaga, for the first time, and he strangely wasn’t too afraid. Maybe it was the relief of her being okay, or maybe it was just because John was completely different than what he expected. Whatever it was, it prevented him from wiping the smile off his face.

Once Peter looked back to the man beside him, he was alarmed by the look of worry in his eyes. Blake was stable, and she would probably be waking up soon, but John still looked at her like suddenly she would just stop breathing. “What was she like when she was little?” Peter asked softly. He wasn’t one for touchy feely moments, but he knew when someone needed a distraction from reality.

“Loud,” John said after a moment. “It seemed like she was always talking. She liked to run. It didn’t matter where she was, she wanted to run. She’d beg me to chase her around the house, and I would. Tag and hide-and-seek were her favorite games to play, sometimes without telling me.” He looked up at the boy for a moment. “She likes stories, too. I told her Russian tales when she was little; stories I heard when I was boy. And when she was little and got scared by… what was it?... the octopus in her closet, she would crawl into my bed and I would tell her stories to make her feel better.”

Peter smirked to himself. “She was afraid of an octopus in her closet?” He asked, glancing over at John and seeing a slight smile on his face.

“Terrified,” he chuckled. “I think it was from Power Rangers."

Peter grinned and looked down at Blake. "You're never living that down," he said, suddenly seeing John's hand brushing hair from his daughter's face. He swallowed thickly when he saw what happened to his ring finger. "She told me about your world… about you." Peter looked up and saw John waiting for him to talk about his response. "I told her that I knew she could get out of it, that she was better than this. She was so worried about my reaction. I think it was the first time I ever saw her scared."

There was a moment of silence before John spoke again. Peter had no idea what was going on in the man's head, and, frankly, he didn't want to know. Some things are better left untouched.

John sighed, resting his hand on Blake's leg gently before finally raising his eyes to the boy across the bed. "You're gonna be a good boyfriend. Maybe I won't have to hide your body after all."


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake finally wakes up.
> 
> I feel like this was really shitty, but I've been working on it all week between my crazy school schedule and homework and bible study and staying in shape for sports. But it was still fun to finish and edit at 2 am on a Thursday night. Hope it's not too cringe.
> 
> It's back to First Person POV, by the way.

_ “We love you, too.” _

A flash of bright light took me away from that safe haven I called home. No more Helen, no more pictures, no more homely smell. Now, everything around me smelled clean; too clean. I could hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor, and there was no mistaking the familiar presence of Peter at my left side. I knew his cologne anywhere; it was cheap but not pathetic, and usually it was masked with the smell of fresh air. How he smelled like fresh fucking air, I had no idea, but he did. Always. However, I smelt someone else with me as well, but I didn’t get the chance to even think about who it could be before the pain hit. Everything ached but didn’t ache at the same time. I knew the pain was there, but it was pushed to the back of my mind by painkillers, like the dull ache of my abilities being used. Whatever I was on, it was strong and I wasn’t complaining.

Then I remembered that Peter was at my left side, and suddenly I thought I was going to cry. They had saved me. I was so close to death that I had seen a glimpse of the other side, but the X-Men pulled through and saved my life. How could I ever repay a debt like that? How did I even deserve that? Ever since I got here I have brought nothing but bad for the school, but they still fought their way through hell, possibly, to come find me. I guess that’s what it means to have friends.

Finally, I forced myself to open my eyes against the harsh light of the medical wing. I had only been in here when it was night time and there were only a couple lights on. I had no idea it got this bright during the day. My eyes burned like hellfire for a moment because of this before they adjusted and I finally saw who else was with Peter.

Jesus, today is just a surprise-an-unsuspecting-and-probably-delusional-Blake day, isn’t it?

“Dad?” I whispered, reaching out and taking the rough hand that was resting beside me. He immediately looked up and I saw his features soften the way they usually do when he’s around me. I also noticed the cuts and bruises that were littered across his face, and I doubted that the rest of his body was spared. “You’re here,” I croaked out, wanting nothing more to just hug him and tell him about Helen. It didn’t matter how beaten we both were. We were alive, and if everything else failed, we had that.

He smiled softly and reached up, brushing my hair from my face. “I’m so sorry, Blake,” he said, the smile disappearing as soon as it arrived. “I should have never let that happen-”

“I saw Helen, Dad,” I choked, interrupting him with news I felt was more important than his apology.  _ Why was he even apologizing in the first place? _ “She told me that she was watching over us, that she knows what you did, and she forgives you. She told me that she understands…” After Dad’s murder spree because of Daisy’s death and the beating I had to take, he had sworn that Helen would have hated his guts. He told me that she never wanted this for us, and that it was his fault that we were brought back into it. I was too young to understand, just some scared little 12 year old back then, but I still ran into his arms and hugged him tight, promising that everything would be okay in the end. I never wanted him to feel alone. For a long time, I was the only one who could truly understand how scared he was of being alone. “She wanted me to remind you that she loves you.”

I saw Dad’s eyes glisten as he clenched his jaw, barely concealing how deeply that affected him. He missed her; we both did. “I never forgot,” he promised, gently rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. 

The moment was short lived when Peter jumped up suddenly. He had been fast asleep beside me, but apparently had a nightmare in the span of a second that scared the hell out of him. Man, when he said his brain worked faster than ours, he wasn’t joking around. It did. “Blake?” he asked when he saw me awake.

“Hey dude,” I said, putting on my brave face and giving him a slight smile. He had seen me broken twice now, I wasn’t going to let it happen again. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I promised, using my good hand to ruffle his hair. My strength was dogshit, and the drugs I was on were making me sleepy, but I could spare a couple minutes.

Peter smiled at me before looking at Dad. They had talked while I was asleep. Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ Dad wasn’t one to outwardly threaten someone unless they seriously pissed him off, which I wouldn’t put past Peter, but I doubt he was at all easy on the poor boy. After all, Dad was always protective of me no matter how well I could fight. He swore he didn’t, but every time I was anywhere near a boy, I could feel him watching the poor kid’s every move. That was probably why Peter was the closest thing I ever had to a boyfriend. “I’m gonna go get the others. They’re really worried,” he said, turning his attention back to me with this certain sparkle in his eyes. Maybe Dad didn’t chew him up and spit him out like a piece of meat.

I nodded slowly and watched him leave before looking at Dad. It was so weird to finally see him in person, all beaten and bruised but still holding strong. It was like old times, but we weren’t at home and the roles were reversed. Now, I was the one that was bedridden because of my injuries.  _ I’m sure he should be too, _ I thought before pushing that out of my head. I didn’t want to think about how badly he was probably hurting; his mutation would handle that. “I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I’m glad to see your bruised up face. That means it’s over,” I whispered, looking down at our hands again as I gave his a gentle squeeze. His hand was much larger than mine, and darker, but he was always so gentle with me. When Santino D’Antonio came to our house bearing that stupid marker, he had told me that I had tamed quite a beast simply with my existence. I told him that if he called my dad a beast again I was going to shove my Ratatouille DVD down his pasta-eating pie-hole. I hadn’t been in the mood for his games, and neither had Dad. We were both tired and beat down; we really just wanted some time to ourselves.

The bastard didn’t talk to me after that.

“I hope it’s over,” Dad replied, sighing softly. I could tell his mutation was strained at the moment from all the injuries he had gotten, but he didn’t seem too bad. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

I shook my head slowly and forced myself to move over in the bed, ignoring the shooting pain throughout my chest. “I’m cold,” I answered. Sure, it was childish and probably not the best idea, but a lot had happened in the past 24 hours. I just wanted to sit with my dad, like I did when I was little, and listen to his steady heartbeat as I dozed off. My mind was a whirlwind of chaos, and, between dealing with the trauma and just trying to remember what I told my captors, I was tired. I just wanted to rest.

He gave me a slight smile as he stood up and carefully sat down in the bed as well, leaning back on the uncomfortable hospital pillows. Once he was somewhat comfortable, he gently picked me up and laid me against him, not wanting me to pull any stitches if I tried to sit up. I didn’t mind, honestly; the medicine was doing a good job of keeping me sleepy. For once in what felt like my whole life, I let Dad truly baby me for a couple moments.

Finally, we got comfortable, and everything was still for a minute. All I could hear was the steady beeping of the heart monitor, and even that was starting to fade into the distance. I felt safer than I had in a long time. Dad was with me, I was surrounded by people I trusted; no one could harm me. Feelings like this didn’t just come all the time for people like Dad and I, so when we felt them, we cherished them. Sometimes we didn’t; sometimes we looked around to see where the sniper was or where the sneak attack would come from, but I wasn’t worried about any of that. Nope, I was just worried about how long it was going to take me to fall asleep.

I felt a presence at my side and turned slowly, my heavy eyes meeting the completely black ones of Victor. It confused me for a moment; he wasn’t the bedside visitation kind of guy. He was more of the ‘eh, you’ll be fine’ type, and everyone knew it. There was silence for a moment as we made eye contact and the last words I said to him came back in a fuzzy wave.

“I didn’t mean it,” I promised. I felt high, but that was probably just from how tired I was. “I thought the book was Dad’s will. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

It seemed to ease Victor’s conscious a bit, but his facial expressions remained the same. I’m sure Dad felt something in the air shift. He was good at picking up on that kind of stuff, even though he wasn’t a telepath. The larger mutant sighed, “You’re high as a fuckin’ kite, Blake, and I don’t like it. Ya act weird when you’re high. Go to sleep.”

I hummed and turned my head back to rest on Dad’s chest, resting my hands comfortably on my stomach. The pain was fading the longer I kept my eyes closed, and I was sure that Dad wouldn’t let me have any bad dreams. He was good at that, too. I never had nightmares when I was sleeping beside my father, but did  _ any  _ kid have nightmares when they were with their parents? Isn’t that why we go to our parents when we’re scared? Because they can protect us?

I didn’t let myself answer that question before dozing off again with the familiar scent of gunpowder and Dad’s shirt overwhelming my senses.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is once again in third person POV.
> 
> John decides to give the children some time to themselves, and Logan is tired of hiding his concerns.
> 
> Again, I'm really sorry for the delay guys!! you're all great and I love the comments I get! They absolutely make my day! Anyway, I'm hoping to start posting more and making the story easier to follow, since the first few chapters were absolutely garbage with that. I'm also gonna try to make a plot, which is something I'm not exactly very good at, so stay tuned and have a good day!

John had eventually left his daughter alone with her friends. He knew she didn’t want him to go, but they deserved some privacy. They were the ones that had been taking care of her for the past 4 months, not him. Besides, he was still rattled from almost losing her, and holding it together was getting harder by the minute with barely any sleep and no coffee. He needed some time to clear his head before thinking about his next step. This was all far from over for him. The least he could do was appear collected in front of his daughter when she needed him the most.

Once he found the kitchen, he immediately counted how many people were in there, which was only two. There was Storm, who didn’t appear too hostile towards him, and Logan, who was definitely more of a threat than the assassin would like to admit. It was hard to kill John Wick, but Logan’s healing ability was what worried him. It didn’t matter how badly someone fights; if they can’t die, you will lose. John had the fortune of never having to fight a healing mutant in all his years of “working”.

Except for Wade, but he didn’t want to kill Wade. He wanted to torture the son of a bitch.

“Mr. Wick,” Storm said politely as she stood up. John was so sick of formalities, but he kept up his image for their sake. They didn’t need to see him break his professionalism on their second day of knowing him. “I know for sure you did not get any sleep last night. I could show you a room.”

“No thank you, Storm. I’m just gonna get some coffee,” he replied, despite the idea of resting sounding so appealing at the moment. “And it’s John.”

Logan sighed. “Take the offer, bub. Blake’s safe here. Ain’t no one gonna get to her as long as we can help it, and ya ain’t helpin’ her by runnin’ yourself ragged. Ya need to rest,” he said, getting a harsh glare from Storm the moment he called John ‘bub’. Logan understood what was so intimidating about the man, between his cold eyes and his mysterious aura, but there was very little that scared Logan. John Wick was a man of intensity and anger, but he was also just a man, and there was nothing to fear about a man other than his intentions.

The assassin didn’t speak for a moment as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t have the energy to deal with another person trying to tell him what was good for him. That’s all he had been listening to for the past 4 months as he ran from the High Table and all the assassins that were after his head; he didn’t want to hear it here. “Thank you for looking out for Blake,” he said, changing the topic. Blake was what was important right now, and talking about her eased his pain. It helped remind him how human he was.

“She told me ya taught her how to fight,” Logan said, causing John’s eyes to look up at him in what appeared to be confusion. It was hard to tell. “I teach a self defense class.”

John nodded slightly when he heard this and limped his way over to the table, sitting down slowly and barely even wincing. The feral wondered what had happened to him. “I did,” John agreed. He knew there was no point in lying, so he simply tried his best to avoid the truth by doing what he always does; being quiet.

“That’s pretty impressive. I’ve been fightin’ since before  _ you  _ were born, but she somehow got me in a leg lock. She also asked me if it was a fight for your life spar, John,” Logan said. It had been bothering him since he heard it, but he decided to never speak of it. After all, Blake was holding up fine in her classes and was socializing, so there was no reason to worry about her mental health. He was just curious about what the hell John did for a living that required her to know how to fight like that. It wasn’t like he was a rich diplomat or politician; John Wick was just a man.

The assassin simply stared into his coffee for a moment, the hope of a quiet morning long gone. “It’s better to be safe than sorry,” was what he decided to stick with. He knew Erik preferred to keep his past life a secret. John didn’t blame him; he wanted to keep it a secret when he was with Helen, too, but secrets always come to the front as ugly truths. No matter how good of a liar and faker you are, the secret is still there, and the ones that care about you will dig it up. “What are you trying to ask, Logan?” He questioned, despite knowing exactly what the mutant was looking for.

“What the hell do ya do for a livin’ that makes your own daughter need to know how to fight for her life?” the feral asked. He usually didn’t go poking around in other people’s business, but John was important in his student’s life, so he was going to make sure she was safe with him. He didn’t care how intrusive he was. Blake was a student, and that meant he would always protect her. She was family.

John shook his head slightly. He didn’t have the time or the energy to explain this. He should have just stayed in the medical wing. “It’s not my place to tell you that.” he muttered, moving his thumb to rub his ring before wincing when he remembered that the entire finger was no longer there. He hadn’t yet had the time to explain what happened to Blake, but he was sure she would be asking as soon as she could stay awake for longer than 10 minutes. She always asked about his missions.  _ It’s not good to keep this stuff in, Dad, _ she would say.  _ You need someone to talk to about it. Someone who won’t judge you. I’m that someone.  _ And she kept to her word. She never judged him for the horrific acts he committed simply because he was told to, nor did she cringe at the details he usually would refuse to give.

He didn’t want to leave her here again, but it was for the best. She was happy here. She was safe here. It didn’t matter what happened to him as long as she was safe. “Logan, I need you to promise me something,” the assassin said after a moment of silence. He met the mutant’s eyes and sighed. “I need you to look after Blake. These next few months will be rough for her, and I’m not gonna be here to help.”

John knew that what he was planning wasn’t gonna come easy to his daughter, and he couldn’t yet give her the game plan. He wouldn’t be able to tell it to her, not without her talking him out of it. No, she was going to have to find out from someone else; most likely Charon. “I don’t understand,” Logan replied, all traces of spite gone from his voice. This was no longer about John, it was about his daughter.

“Just watch out for her. When she’s hurting, she doesn’t eat so that she can have something to feel instead of the pain. She doesn’t sleep a lot, but she sleeps even less when she’s struggling. Logan, I need you to watch out for her. I can’t.” Logan had no idea how hard it was for John to admit that. He couldn’t take care of his daughter. Things weren’t going to plan, and everything was going to shit. John needed her to be taken care of for the time being so that he could handle the situation and get it dealt with. He couldn’t watch after her at the same time, and that killed him.

He just wanted to live peacefully with his little girl. Was that too much to ask?

“Alright,” Logan said after a moment. He reached out his hand and shook John’s, despite the latter having never offered it. They locked eyes for a moment as they shook hands, John trusting this stranger with his entire world. “I’ll make sure nothin’ bad happens, John. Swear it on my life.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is back to Blake's POV (hopefully to remain that way but no promises)

It didn't take long for me to get sick of the hospital bed. The first couple days I was too tired to really argue with anyone, just sleeping off the pain, but eventually they couldn't keep me down without handcuffing me. I was sick of hearing everyone else bustling around outside while I just had to sit there with a fucked up chest. It was infuriating.

Dad had left as soon as I was stable enough to stay awake for an entire day. I knew the look in my eyes broke something within him when he told me, but I couldn't help it. Everything was starting to turn out good, and then he told me that it was far from over. Why couldn't we live normally? How badly did you have to piss off God to get this kind of punishment?

Even through my anger, though, I paused and took Dad's hand with the missing finger, pulling him down for a tight hug. Then I buried my face in his suit, his  _ work  _ suit. God, I hated that fucking suit. "Please be careful," I had whispered as he pulled away. He just nodded, reaching out to brush my hair from my face before kissing my forehead.

"I will," he had promised before handing me a picture and leaving. He didn’t explain the picture, and it was folded so I didn’t see it immediately, but I knew it was more so for his sake than mine. The more he talked, the more personal this got, and he wanted everything strictly business once he put on that suit. As he walked out the door to the medical wing, I had wanted to call him back, beg him not to go, but I knew he didn't have a choice. He was doing this for me. For Helen. I wasn't about to make that harder on him.

Now, I was standing in the backyard of the mansion with that picture in my hands. It was getting dark out, and I knew Dr. McCoy would riot if he saw me standing for a long period of time, but I didn't care. I just stared at the picture, fiddling with it a bit in my hands.

"That your mama?" A familiar voice asked.

I glanced over my shoulder at Logan, who walked over to lean on the rail with me, a lit cigar hanging between his fingers. The patio had a beautiful view of the yard, so he joined me in admiring it. "No. Step-mom. My mom was a cold hearted bitch," I scoffed.

He chuckled. "Tell me what ya really think," he said sarcastically. I didn't answer. "Ya should be inside restin'. Hank would have a cow if he saw ya out here."

"I don't care," I admitted, glancing over at him. I hadn't actually talked to him in a while, which was strange. He was probably the only adult I really trusted in this school, even though they were all incredibly nice to me. "I got tired of the smell of kids or medical supplies. Fresh air does wonders."

This time, Logan didn't answer for a while. We just stood there in silence, my attention returning to the picture. It was one of Helen's favorites, taken by a friend of mine at a carnival. I was on Dad's back with some shitty face paint on my cheeks while Helen had her arms around Dad's waist. It was one of the last times we were truly happy. "Ya gonna be okay?" He asked. I knew he wasn't talking about my chest.

"I'm used to nightmares by now, Logan," I replied, tearing my eyes from the picture to look at the yard. "I'll pull through," I added as I stood up off the railing and winced, pressing my hand lightly against one of the wounds. "What I would do for a healing mutation," I joked.

"It ain't as fun as ya think," he scoffed, glancing over at me. He took in a breath of smoke before puffing it out, moving to lean against the rail again. "Get some rest, kid."

* * *

The next morning was the first day I was really allowed to go back to school. Dr. McCoy wasn’t happy with it, but he was also getting sick of finding me in random parts of the school when I got tired of the medical wing. I got a lot from my dad, including my willpower and stubbornness. If I wanted to get out and do something, I was going to do it, and the only force that could stop me was God himself. It had simultaneously kept me alive and gotten me into more trouble than imaginable.

“Blake!” a voice called from behind me in the hallway.

I turned immediately and smiled at the owner of said voice, feeling a rush of wind when he sped over to me. “Hey Peter,” I said. I hadn’t seen him as often as we were used to because of school and now I was doing physical therapy. Our shitty conversations about absolutely nothing weren’t as common as they used to be, and, for some reason, that was having an affect on my mood. “It feels like I haven’t talked to you in years.”

“I know,” he complained. “I missed your shitty sense of humor.”

I laughed softly when I heard this before wincing. Right, my ribs weren't completely healed yet. "So," I started after a moment of silent walking. We had another five minutes before class started, and a slow walk was just what the both of us needed. A moment to breathe. "You talked to my dad when I was out, huh? Hopefully he wasn't all silent and broody like usual."

"No, actually, he told me about your childhood monster in the closet," Peter smirked.  _ Oh, I am so gonna kill him when I see him again,  _ I thought, barely containing my embarrassment. "An octopus, Blake?  _ Really? _ "

"I was four, Peter! Cut me a break!" I groaned, picking up my pace a little to get to Logan's class on time. "Besides, you're the one who got scared watching The Bye Bye Man," I snarked back, smirking a little at him. We had a few movie nights while I was incapacitated, mostly after Dad left. Peter, Kurt and Kitty saw how down in the dumps I was about his sudden departure and decided to cheer me up with a horror movie. It was Kurt’s idea, of course. The little elf loved horror movies more than I did, but his girlfriend, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly a fan. She spent the entire night wrapped in a blanket with her face hidden away in his neck. I, on the other hand, watched the whole movie without a flinch, simply laughing whenever Peter gasped in fear at one of the jump scares. He knew as soon as he did it that he would never live it down.

“ _ I  _ got scared? Oh, that’s rich. I guess you just  _ missed  _ Kitty,” he retorted, matching my pace. I knew he hated how slow we were walking, since I usually walked at warp speed to keep up with him, but he was trying for me. That’s sweet. “We missed you, you know. Class was pretty boring. Dr. McCoy got worried because of how quiet I was being in his class, and Professor X has actually covered some material this week.”

I smiled at him, rolling my eyes a little. “You say that like I’m the problem child,” I chuckled. He shrugged cheekily and opened the door for me right as the bell rang, causing every student in the hallway to have a minor  _ oh shit _ moment as they sprinted to class. Logan glanced over and narrowed his eyes, not even looking at Peter as he sped away to make it to class “on time.”

“You’re late,” he said, just to be a bitch about it.

“I’m injured! You can’t pick on me!” I called back as I walked across the yard, carefully sitting down in the grass. When I saw Logan smirking as if to say ‘is that a challenge?’, I pulled out a note. “You literally can’t pick on me until Dr. McCoy clears me. Pick on Kurt. He deserves it.”

The elf looked at me, feigning betrayal. “Blake!”

Logan waved me off, saying, “I ain’t listenin’ to a word from ya,” before walking to the front of the class to continue his intro. The feral wasn’t good at public speaking, especially with children around, but that just made for a very interesting class. Cursing and threatening to make them run until they pass out? Sounds like a fun class to me.

I took a soft breath in and looked over at the kid beside me. He was a bit older than me with sandy blond hair and ice blue eyes. He had been in this class since before I got here, but we had only spoken a few times when it came to projects. Not wanting to seem weird, I turned my attention back to the meadow, listening to Logan subconsciously. He was talking about kickboxing, something my dad and I did way too often, so I was sure that I already knew what he was talking about. This class was just an easy 100 for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy it.

I felt a hand tap my arm and turned to the blond kid beside me. After a second of looking at him and thinking back to our minimal conversation, his name came rushing back.  _ Bobby. _ “Welcome back,” he said, offering his hand to shake. I chuckled a little at the gesture and shook his hand, finding it to be ice cold. It felt good under the hot sun.

“Thanks,” I hummed, letting go of his hand before pulling my knees up to my chest to get more comfortable. Before, I would’ve just let the conversation end there, but something had changed within me. I wasn’t scared of social interaction anymore. I had realized that not everyone was out to get me. “Did I miss anything?”

Bobby shook his head. “No, but I did,” he said. I tilted my head a little and turned to look at him, confused. I was going to guess that he went home while I was in the hospital, but when I saw the look in his eyes, my thoughts stopped for a minute. After a moment of silence, I spoke up.

“Well, what did you miss?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“You.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this is a month late! I'll try to get more on schedule but I literally just forgot this book existed for a whole month. Also, it's SPOOKTOBER Y'ALL!!!!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake's never been one for drama, but she's apparently a bigger deal than she thought. Good thing Kitty's around to help her out with boy troubles.

After Bobby said that, I just gave him an awkward nod and turned to pretend to be paying attention. It took a couple seconds before what he said actually hit me.  _ You.  _ Why the hell did he miss me? From what I could remember, I had maybe 3 conversations with the boy throughout half the year, and that's pushing it. I was never one for making new friends, and I was happy to just stick with Kurt during this class. Hell, I didn't even know most of these kids'  _ names. _ They kept to their little cliques just like I kept to mine.

I stood off to the side as the other kids started doing routine sparring, something Logan always made sure to make time for. He wanted us to spar at least once every day, saying that it was the best way to learn and fix your weaknesses. He wasn't wrong in the slightest, but it sucked when I couldn't be Kurt's partner. I missed fighting with the elf. However, instead of wallowing in my own boredom as Logan walked through the rows and rows of students, I took my mind back to the statement before so I could dwell on it in silence. I started wondering if I was actually attracted to Bobby, thinking that maybe I just never noticed him because I was too overwhelmed with finally having friends. After all, before I got to this school, all I had was my dad and my trauma. I was a loner with no one to turn to. 

Then a thought hit me harder than a freight train.

_ What about Peter? _

Peter and I had been practically best friends since I got here. There were more times than I can count, especially after my capture, where I fell asleep against his chest when we were watching a movie or reading together. It felt natural to lay with him. There was nothing intimate about it; we were just two teenagers who desperately needed comfort and human interaction, and cuddling was the best way to fill that need. It never felt awkward or uncomfortable. We knew each other's limits and we never pushed past that.

My mind took me back to the conversation with Helen, something I never did forget. It wasn't like a dream that faded over time. No, it stuck in my mind like a staple, and I was still struggling to understand what even happened. It was like I, for a couple moments, crossed the veil and met her in Heaven. She talked to me like she knew everything was going to be okay, like she already saw my future. She didn't warn me or give advice, she just told me that I couldn't die before my first kiss. If she knows my future, then she was implying that it was going to be from Peter.

The bell rang and broke me from my thoughts.

Okay, enough of that. My mind just went all types of philosophical on me, and I was known for ignoring my emotions. I stood up and carefully threw my bag on my back, smiling a little when Kurt walked over.

"You looked like you were in another universe, Blake," he said, opening the door for me as we walked into the building.

I shrugged, making my way inside. "Got bored of watching people struggle to box, so I started thinking of conspiracy theories. I had a lot of free time when I was on bed rest," I admitted with a soft chuckle. Without anyone around to talk to or at least keep me company during the day, I usually wasted time by reading, doing whatever studying I could, or listening to a conspiracy podcast. Lets just say, I had quite a few laughs. "I can't believe people actually think Logan is an alien."

Kurt laughed, his tail swishing a little in amusement. "I mean, he is Canadian. Perhaps he didn't get here legally."

I laughed as well, resting my hand on my stomach as we walked through the school. There were kids flooding the previously silent hallways, filling it with chatter. A rush of wind brushed my hair over my shoulders as Peter appeared beside me, a flash of silver following him. I smiled. "Hey. Any wind of how science is gonna be today?" I asked.

"Boring, as always. How was Logan's class?" He responded, waving to Kurt. The elf smiled and waved in return, giving a soft 'hallo' as well.

My mind returned to the brief conversation with Bobby and the meaning behind it, but I quickly pushed those memories back. "Same ole same ole. Logan told me to sit out on Dr. McCoy's orders, and it was boring as hell."

"We're still in boxing," Kurt added in before glancing at me. "And Blake was lost in conspiracies the whole class. You're rubbing off on her, mein freund, she's not paying attention anymore."

I scoffed and pushed Kurt as we neared Dr. McCoy's class, which was near Storm's astronomy class that Kurt was heading to. "Fuck off, Elf."

* * *

Once classes were over, I met with Kitty in my room to drop my books off and maybe even get some homework done. It's not like I had a lot, just psychology reading for Professor X's class and a bit of history research for Victor's class, but I didn't like procrastinating. It only added to the stress I was constantly put under. 

"Jesus, Blake, you need a wardrobe upgrade. Do you only wear plain shirts and jeans?" Kitty scoffed, peeking in my neat, thinned closet compared to her messy, cramped one.

I looked down at myself, seeing the dark long sleeved shirt, dark leather jacket, jeans and boots I was wearing. "I dress comfortably," I replied. "And I look good."

"Well… yeah, you look good, but still! You need some color other than black and white!" She said. "I'm going shopping today anyway. Please please  _ please _ come with me! I swear, I will get you the cutest outfits," the teenager ranted, turning to me with a bright look in her eyes.

I chuckled and looked down at the schoolwork I had. "Kitty I have homework," I said, knowing she wasn't going to give up that easily but deciding to try anyway.

"It's not that much. I already did Mr. Creed's homework and you know Professor X doesn't ever give out homework unless he's discussed it. You're super smart Blake, you'll do it in an hour. Now come on! Would it  _ kill  _ you to walk in a mall? Maybe we can even talk girl talk, if you want," she pushed, walking over and leaning on my desk.

"Yeah, like that's gonna convince me," I scoffed, pulling my long hair out of the ponytail I put it in. I always put it up when I did homework or something important, that way it wasn't distracting me. "Fine, if I go will you stop bothering me about it?" I asked, looking up at my roommate.

Kitty clapped her hands and nodded like a little kid, immediately putting her shoes on. "You think Logan will give us a ride?" She asked hopefully, since we were both still 15 and legally not allowed to drive.

I smirked and fished Scott's keys from my pocket. Earlier in the day, I brushed by him in the hallway and took the opportunity that presented itself. "I was gonna go get some food. Come on, no one will notice. It's right up the road," I promised, my boots lightly tapping on the floor as I put the keys back in my jacket pocket and walked out of the room. I wasn't usually one for going out, but Kitty was a different story. The girl brought out the more naïve, girlish side of me that barely anyone ever saw, despite how cold I usually was to the other girls like her.

"Ooh, that's illegal Blake," she grinned, walking out with me and shutting the door behind me.

I shrugged playfully. "My dad's an assassin, I think I get a pass," I joked, walking casually down the hallway. We passed Victor and I stopped for a moment. "Hey, Creed!" I called, causing the man to turn around and Kitty to tense. Not many people were comfortable talking to the feral, which was understandable, but it was mandatory for someone to know we were going out. "Kitty and I are heading down the street. If we're not back by nightfall, something's probably wrong."

"Eh, you survived last time," he retorted before continuing to walk down the hallway. I smirked and glanced at my friend.

"He'll keep an eye out. I speak alpha male, unfortunately. Let's go," I said, making my way to the garage again. 

Kitty followed along behind me, starting up her usual chatter before we were even in rhythm again. "I don't understand how you're so comfortable around him. He's rude and could totally rip us apart. Like seriously, Blake, you need to be careful around Creed. He could hurt you," she said.

"He won't, Kit. He's an asshole, but he's got a sliver of soul left. As long as you treat him like a human being, you've got nothing to worry about," I said, unlocking Scott's car and getting in the driver's seat. "Now come on. I know you've got something on your mind that's bothering you other than Creed being an asshole."

She nodded, climbing in the passenger seat and buckling up as I started the car. The engine revved and I turned, backing up before making my way out of the garage. "Yeah. I heard some rumors from Logan's class," she said.

"Really now? Great, I'm at a school of mutants and now there's teenage drama," I scoffed.

"It was about you," she added before I could continue. I glanced at her, confused. "Pyro told me that you and Bobby were totally flirting. He swore on God that you two were giving each other 'the look' and whispering. Blake, I thought you and Peter were a thing! You two are like the OTP of the school, you can't date Bobby!" She complained.

I listened to her words, taking them in for a moment. Of course someone thought Bobby and I were flirting. Anytime a girl and a boy talk quietly in a high school setting, it's usually classified as flirting. I chuckled when I heard the complaint. "First of all, I wasn't flirting with him. He was flirting with me, and it was harmless. Second, there's nothing between Peter and I. We're just friends. We must be doing this friend thing wrong, because even my  _ dad _ assumed we were dating, and he is socially stunted. We're not dating. And third, I can date whoever I want," I scoffed out the last part with sarcasm, hoping she would glaze over to the defensiveness in my voice when I started talking about Peter.

Of course, I never get what I want. "God, Blake, you two are so in love. Seriously. You spend practically every moment together! Training, school, homework, movie night… It's hard to believe you're  _ not  _ dating. Looks like your dad's not the only one socially stunted," she scoffed. "But seriously, are you and Bobby potentially a thing? You have to tell me. I'm your best friend, besides Peter, but you wouldn't tell him something like this."

I sighed and rubbed my hand over my forehead, making sure to go the speed limit so that I didn't get pulled over and caught. "I don't know, Kit. I'm not exactly a romantic, and I'm still pretty fucked up mentally from what happened," I admitted. Kitty was really the only one who saw what happened behind closed doors. She saw the nightmares and the breaking down, even when I tried to block it out, but she never berated me or told anyone. After the first nightmare, she took an oath of secrecy, and, despite how stupid it was, I trusted her with anything. "I guess he's not too bad."

"No one's making you get with him. If you want him to leave you alone, I'll just, like, tell Logan that he bothered you or something, but I totally think you should think about it. I also think you should think about Peter," she said, glancing over at me as we pulled up to the mall. "I don't know. Maybe for once being alone isn't the best thing for you."

I turned off the car once I was parked and looked over at my friend. "I'll buy you a coffee for keeping my secrets," I said, segwaying off the topic.

"Thanks, but promise me you'll really think about it," she said, crossing her arms in that 'I will throw a tantrum' way.

I chuckled and nodded slightly. "Alright, fine, I'll think about it," I promised. She held up her pinky and I laughed softly. "Seriously?" I asked. She nodded, so I rolled my eyes and hooked my pinky with her's. "I promise," I added before dropping her hand and getting out, a cool breeze blowing my dark hair over my shoulders. "Come on. I wanna get this over with as soon as possible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for getting this out so late!! My school is overloading us with work and it's currently midnight on a Monday. I just randomly got the motivation to write this whole thing in an hour. Anyway, enjoy your day/night and WASH YO HANDS


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just kinda figured out how to work AO3 (26 chapters in, I know, I'm a legend) so thinks will really start to appear nicer now! I hope this chapter lives up to the time it took to write it. I know I've had quite a few plot holes in the past, but I'm going to plan this one out, I promise! Enjoy!
> 
> PS comments make my day :)

I hated the mall. It was loud, crowded, and mostly made of glass. There were too many exits to keep in mind and it wasn't like the security was the best thing in the world. My mind was constantly darting from person to person or store to store, evaluating the risks and searching for familiar faces. There were none; there never were. I tried to tell myself that there weren't any assassins in the building, but it was hard to believe when I knew how easy it was to cover up the darkness. Especially when I did it every day.

Kitty nudged me. "Stop looking so serious. Come on! Let's go to the food court. I'm starving," she said, hooking our arms together and dragging me towards the smell of cheap and fried food.

"I'm just thinking, Kit. Let me think in peace," I chuckled, immediately following after her and shaking her arm off mine. "Burgers?" I guessed. It was really the only good food there.

"Girl, there's, like, nothing else to eat here," she scoffed, opening her phone and scrolling to Instagram. "Ooh, if Bobby likes you, he'll post about it. He always posts something weird when he likes a girl, like an ice rose or something, and he'll caption it with, like, heart emoji and snowflake emoji."

I wrinkled my nose a bit as we got in line. "He does know that no one finds that cute, right?" I asked, looking over at my friend and pulling out my own phone. It was cracked, and old, but it worked. "And that I don't have social media?"

Kitty looked at me, her jaw dropping a bit. "You don't have social media?? No Instagram, Snapchat-"

"I've got Spotify and Google Docs," I said, showing her my phone. Those were the only two apps I had downloaded on it. She stared at me in shock and I chuckled. "You think my dad would let me have anything that could be tracked?"

"Sheesh, Johnny is a helicopter parent?" A familiar voice said behind me. I turned around, my hand immediately grabbing Kitty's arm out of sheer protectiveness, before seeing a gentle face smiling at me.

"Addy," I said, relieved, as I released Kitty's poor arm that I had been gripping. It was so good to have someone sneak up on me that I actually wanted to see. "Thank God. I really didn't want to hurt someone in the food court."

The bartender grinned and leaned forward, kissing my forehead as a greeting as she placed her hands on my arms. "Holy shit, you got big fast. John was always a little guy when he was younger. He made up for it with absolutely psychotic fighting abilities," she joked. I chuckled softly.

I glanced over at Kitty, who was staring at me with a confused look on her face. "Kitty, this is Addy. She's a family friend. Addy, this is Kitty, she's a good friend of mine," I introduced briefly to clear the air that we were not in danger. Then I turned back to Addy. "What are you doing here anyway? I usually don't see you outside the Continental."

"I lost Go Fish with Charon and he wanted some onion rings. I'm getting him the shittiest I can find because he deserves it," she said cheekily, grinning at me. I chuckled to myself. "I could ask the same about you. I thought Lehnsherr was looking out for you, and his way of watching out for someone is putting them on lockdown. How is he anyway?"

"He can't keep me on lockdown. I'm my father's daughter," I said before changing the subject to stray the conversation from Erik's past. I trusted Kitty with my life, but the poor girl had enough secrets to keep. "How is my dad anyway? I'm sure you've seen him."

Addy fell silent as we neared the register. "You haven't heard?" She asked.

"I haven't heard what?" I retorted. Kitty started to order her food in the background but I ignored the offer. I wasn't hungry and Addy hadn’t answered my question. "Adds, what's going on?"

The woman chewed her lip. "Hold on," she said, stepping in front of me and ordering her food once Kitty paid. My mind was rushing with questions and confusion. What did she mean? What haven't I heard? Surely if something was going on, my father would tell me. He always did, no matter where he was, because he knew I would worry to no end if I didn't hear from him. He wouldn't leave me hanging unless he was dead or worse.

I walked to a random table in an almost panicked haze, not exactly caring if Kitty tagged along or not. I didn't lose my cool easily, it was something I got from Dad, but when it came to him everything changed. My maturity, my silence, and my stoic expression all disappeared and was replaced by panic. He was all I had left. Literally.

We sat down and I stared at Addy. "What the hell is going on? Is he alive?"

"Oh, God, yes. Nothing can kill that man. Yes, Blake, he's alive," she said immediately, reaching out and taking my hands. I relaxed them in her grip. Addy's eyes glanced at Kitty before returning to me. "Can she hear this?"

I nodded. "She knows, and she's kept it quiet, so I expect you to pretend like she's not here so the Table doesn't think we're a security risk," I said, staring into Addy's dark orbs. She may work in an assassin's bar, but she really had one of the kindest hearts. "Now tell me what is going on with my father."

"I shouldn't be the one to tell you, Blake. This is a conversation you and your dad need to have-"

"Addy, I swear to fucking God," I said, my voice darkening to an underlying threat. Kitty tensed.

The woman sighed, gently rubbing her thumbs over my hands to try and get me to calm down. It didn’t work. "John is marrying Santino D'Antonio to escape his excommunication."

I fell silent, staring at Addy and searching her eyes for any sign that this was a joke. There was no way this was possible. I remember the night Dad came home, blood splattered on his dark suit and face, and told me that he killed Santino D'Antonio. He was so angry at himself for putting me in danger. It was the closest Dad has come to tears since Helen died.

"Santino D'Antonio is dead," I said blankly. "Dad shot him between the eyes."

Addy shook her head and continued to rub her thumbs over my hands. They were starting to shake out of pure emotion. "No, John shot him in the back as Santino walked out of the bar. He missed his lungs, heart and spine on purpose. John couldn't kill Santino. They're too close."

"Santino  _ burned our house down!  _ He took us from all the memories we had of Helen! He-" I cut myself off and pulled my hands away from Addy's. "This isn't going to work and you know it. Dad knows it. The High Table isn't going to buy it."

The bartender rubbed her hands together nervously. She was hiding something. "You don't know everything about your dad, Blake," she said gently. I looked at her, waiting for her to explain. I could feel Kitty staring at me, but I didn't care at the moment. "John and Santino were… in relations long before you were born. Santino was still in college and hadn't even seen outside Naples yet. They kept it quiet, though. Only Marcus, Winston and I knew about it."

"They knew what could happen if a Camorra prince was caught with the Tarasov's personal dog," I muttered under my breath. I knew Dad was bisexual. He never kept it a secret, but we didn't talk about it considering he met Helen and then, after that, didn't have any urge to date. Until now. "But they haven't talked in years…"

Addy sighed. "I know. This is a lot for you to take in, kid. I wish I could get you to Italy somehow, but John told me to not even tell you. He was so happy you were making friends, Blake… God, he looked so proud. He just didn't want to ruin that for you."

I didn't respond, simply staring at the filthy table that we were sitting at. There was too much running through my head. At this point, I didn't know what to do. Should I cry because Dad hid all this from me? Smile because it's almost over? Yell because he left me? Deep down, I wanted to believe that this would work. I wanted to think that Dad was going to be okay, that this would somehow pan out in our favor, but I knew the High Table wasn't stupid. They didn't like when their rules got broken. To them, loopholes didn't exist. If Santino and Dad did pull through with this marriage, they would find a way to put them both under the guillotine.

"Blake?" Kitty asked softly, reaching out and touching my back. I didn't even realize I had a tear rolling down my cheek. "It's gonna be okay."

I shook my head, wiping the tear from my face. "No, Kit. It's not."

* * *

Addy didn't stay with us for long. She barely got a chance to explain what was going on before she was getting a call from Winston telling her to hurry back to the Continental. I wasn't surprised, it was nearing 5 o'clock, and I was sure the bar was starting to flood with assassins getting ready for work. She told me to call her if I needed to before grabbing Charon's onion rings and heading back to the hotel, leaving Kitty and I sitting in silence.

My eyes were dried of tears at this point, and I was just chewing on my lip while I thought. Things were going to be tough now. If Santino and Dad went through with this marriage, I knew that I would most likely be going to Italy. It could be for a week, it could be for a year, depending on what they were planning. The High Table hates Dad because he was a threat, and they will do anything to eliminate a threat, no matter who it hurt. The teenage daughter of the Baba Yaga was the perfect way for them to draw him out into the open.

However, Santino's family held a High Table seat. It didn't matter if Santino himself sat it in, although I'm sure that's exactly what the Camorra prince was hoping for. As long as Dad was considered an in-law, he was untouchable, and therefore saved. It was stupid, but it gave Dad a better chance of survival than he had before.

"You want to head back?" Kitty asked, breaking me from my thoughts.

I took a soft breath in and looked over at her. "No, I need to get my mind off things. I'm sure I won’t get that chance again once things start really getting serious after the wedding,” I replied, rubbing my hands together gently. I had to accept that it was going to happen. There was nothing I could do to change it, and it had a chance to save Dad’s life. I had no choice.

“Okay, girl, come on. We only got, like, 30 minutes before Mr. Creed realizes that an hour has gone by and comes looking for us,” she said, successfully changing the topic as she rose to her feet and collected the trash that was left from her meal. “It’s going to take the whole half hour for you to tell me more about Bobby  _ and _ for me to get you some killer clothes.”

I smiled slightly, standing up as well and shaking my head fondly when I heard this last part. Of course she wanted me to tell her more about Bobby. “Kit, I don’t know anything else about Bobby,” I chuckled. “It’s not like I’ve talked to him much before. He just kind of randomly started to talk to me.”

The valley girl grinned, popping a piece of gum in her mouth to freshen up her breath. “Well,  _ I _ know plenty about him, so shut up and let the tea spill.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter yall. I'm making a sequel because I'm not proud of how this one turned out. Stay tuned!

After 30 minutes of listening to Kitty tell me a scary amount of information on Bobby, from his social media life to his past girlfriends, I was very much ready for some alone time. Kitty was one of my best friends, and she knew it, but socializing wasn't my strong suit. I would rather be alone with a book or a weapon than at a party. According to Kit, I had the looks and sarcasm of a popular, pretty girl, but she told me I just needed to master my nice face.

I don't have a nice face, so that will be a problem.

We got home a little over an hour later. Victor and Logan were standing on the porch, talking quietly about whatever those two talk about. No one really knew. They were both in triple digits age wise; I'm sure they had plenty of things to discuss.

"I need to talk to Logan and Victor real quick, Kitty. I'll see you inside," I promised, looking over to my friend before she got the chance to speak again.

The teen glanced at the men, still wary around Sabretooth, and sighed. "Your balls are made of, like, steel, Blake. See you inside," she replied, walking into the school and leaving me on the porch with the brothers.

"What do you want?" Victor asked, turning to me. Logan shrugged and turned to me as well. "I can smell somethin' wrong with ya, but don't start talkin' about your bullshit like we give a damn."

I put my hands in my pockets as I leaned back against the wall beside the door. It was cold, but it felt good on my burning hot skin. I'd been sweating since Addy told me the news. "I think I'm going to Italy for a few months,” I replied. “I thought you might want to know, considering you two have been watching my every move since my dad left.”

Logan shifted a little before looking at Victor, who shrugged. “Why the hell are ya goin’ to Italy?” Wolverine asked, raising his eyebrow as he stared at me. I could feel the weight in his gaze. He had questions, a lot more than he was asking, but he was going to give me a chance to speak for myself before he started to bombard me. I’d have to remember to thank him for that later.

“It’s a… long story. In short, my dad got fucked by the High Table, so he married into the Camorra royalty to give himself protection,” I explained briefly. There were so many more details that I could have elaborated on. Dad was marrying someone that tried to kill us, and I was sure that there was something in this deal that was made that benefitted the D’Antonio family. Perhaps a promise of my father’s loyalty until his passing. Maybe a promise to make me just like him; more than I already was, anyway. Santino didn’t hand out favors without something benefitting him. It didn’t matter who it was for, whether that be family or a lover; if they didn’t have something in return for his services, he would throw them to the dogs. “So, I’m probably going to be expected at the wedding. I’m gonna call my Dad at midnight and get more information,” I explained. There was about a six hour difference from America to Italy, and I knew I was going to have to pull an all nighter to finish the paper for Charles’ class that I had been putting off.

“He ask you about this?” Logan questioned, tilting his head at me and narrowing his eyes.

I scoffed. “No, of course not. It was a last minute decision. My father is smart, he knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t put himself in a situation like this with someone like Santino unless he knew that it was the only way.”

There was silence for a moment as Logan and Victor shared a look. I didn’t know what they meant by it, but they seemed to understand each other. Maybe it was one of those brother things that I would never understand because I don’t have siblings. “You’re not goin’ alone,'' the oldest mutant said, crossing his arms.

I raised my eyebrow at him. “You do remember that I killed 3 assassins that broke into my room during the first week I was here, right?” I retorted, meeting his dark eyes. Victor and I had always had a really weird relationship. He found me interesting because I could take care of myself and didn’t back down to him, unlike most of the kids at the school, but, for some reason, he still tried to protect me. We were like partners, and it was obvious that neither of us were used to that feeling. We weren’t used to having people standing up for us. “I can take care of myself, Creed, and you wouldn’t blend with the Italian mafia. They’re too… formal for your tastes.”

“I wasn’t gonna go with ya. I’m banned from Italy, kid, but ya ain’t goin’ alone. I’ve had run-ins with the Camorra. They are greedy bastards that only want to expand their empire, and they’re not gonna stop just because of you,” Victor replied. He wasn’t wrong in the slightest; the Camorra were bloodthirsty bastards, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was completely right. I wouldn’t stand a chance out there with them, even with my father backing my every move. I needed a partner, but that didn't mean I was going to bring one.

“I’m sorry Victor. I’m not taking any of my friends with me. This is dangerous, and they’ve been through enough already. I’ll do my best to write and call, but I can’t promise that I’ll be able to do that without being afraid of someone tracking it. The last thing I want to do is put this school on another hit-list,” I said, shaking my head a little bit. Xavier had given so much for this place. Family, friends, hell, even his legs. The X-Men fought to their last breath to save mutants and humans alike, whether they wanted to be saved or not. Misfits from every social walk of life finally had a place where they could band together and stand against the bullies in their everyday lives. They were taught how to control their powers and deal with the horrors of humanity, but they were also left with their innocence and happiness. Some of us never had that in the first place, and who was I to come in and steal it from those who did for my own selfish needs? No, I would rather them think that I was dead. “I’m not gonna tell anyone until I have confirmation.”

Logan sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. Victor seemed like he wanted to argue, but the younger mutant spoke up before he got the chance. “Fine,” he said. He knew that there was no way to stop me from doing whatever I put my mind to. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try and talk a little bit of sense into me. “But I want updates on your ass. I don’t want you to go ghost on me for 6 months and then just pop up out of nowhere. I can scatter the letters, get burners; ain’t no mafia bitch gonna get me, but I want fuckin’ updates. Understand?” Logan ordered.

I chuckled and nodded. “I understand,” I replied. “You’ll get updates. Both of you. You’ve done some good shit for me, so you probably deserve to know if I’m alive.” I couldn’t stop the sarcastic tone that slipped into my voice for the last bit. Peter must've been rubbing off on me more than I thought he was.

Victor nodded as well, turning again so that he could face the front yard of the mansion. “Good. I don’t wanna get arrested because I had to save your sorry ass. Now go write that damn paper for Xavier so he doesn’t have an aneurysm.”

* * *

Time passed quicker than I expected. In under 2 hours, I wrote my essay over whether Caesar or Brutus was the main character in the former’s play. While I may do nothing but goof off in that class, I held a steady 97 average, and nothing was better than seeing the Professor’s face every time I turned in a damn near perfect paper after only playing hangman with Peter since we started reading the book.  _ Peter has done nothing but thrive in this class since you arrived, Miss Wick, _ Xavier told me once. He had stopped me after class when Peter and Kurt had ran out chasing each other like the boys they were, leaving me to pack up my things alone.  _ You’ve been such a good influence on him. Whatever you’re doing to help him, don’t stop. _

I had simply scoffed a little and replied,  _ I’m helping him study. Don’t give me any of the credit. He’s smarter than he looks. _

Kitty had started playing music over our shared Bluetooth speaker while we worked on separate things. She was studying for an Astronomy test while I worked on my paper, and for once, it was quiet in our dorm. At least, if you didn’t count the music it was. It was so…  _ peaceful _ , like the calm before the storm. No boy talks, no pestering me to tell me what my plans were for the weekend, nothing but just working and enjoying each other’s company. It was normal.

I looked at the clock after a second and saw that it was about 12:30 in the morning. When I turned to look at Kitty, I saw her passed out on her desk, to which I smiled softly to myself. I would wake her up to get her in bed after I called Dad. My thumb hovered over his personal cell, one he would never get rid of in case of emergencies, and I hesitated. If he didn’t pick up, I’d be in a panic. If he did pick up, I could be in big trouble for calling this number in putting myself in danger. It was going to have to be a risk that I was willing to take. I dialed the number.

It rang for a couple seconds, and I wondered if he was even awake yet. He rose early, but not at exactly 6 every morning.

My thoughts were interrupted when a gruff voice cut off the ringing tone. “ _ Hello? _ ” he asked, sounding confused. He seemed to have just woken up.

“Hey Dad,” I said quietly. Kitty was a heavy sleeper, but I didn’t want to risk it.

Dad paused for a moment before I heard a bed creak. “ _ Blake? I told you not to call this number. You could be tracked. _ ”

I bit my lip and shook my head. “I don’t care. When were you going to tell me that you were marrying Santino D’Antonio? Or did you not plan on telling me at all, instead letting me believe that you were dead because you couldn’t bother to shoot me a text,” I whispered harshly. Usually, I wouldn’t dare pick up a tone with my father. He had proved time and time again that, while he was lenient, he was going to be respected as my guardian. I had no problem with that until now. “I had to learn it from Addy in a mall food court, Dad.”

A soft sigh crossed the other end of the line and there was silence for a long while. It was early there, and he was whispering too. “ _ I’m sorry, Blake. I was going to tell you, I promise, but I didn’t want you to know until it paid off. We’ve run into some complications. _ ”

“What kind of complications?” I asked, wiggling my mouse around the computer screen to keep it from going dark. It was the only source of light in the room.

" _ The High Table doesn't believe that the marriage is real. We've been having trouble proving it to them. You're not a witness; you were an infant when Santino and I split up, _ " he explained quietly. I heard the bed creak again and some shuffling before a door closed. " _ You're not coming to Italy. _ "

Yet another reason it was damn near impossible to keep anything from dad. He was across the world and he still knew what I was planning. "Like hell I'm not. I'm your daughter and you don't want me there for your wedding. No wonder the High Table won't believe you."

" _ You don't understand, Blake. There's no turning back from this. You don't want to walk away from where you are to come into this life, _ " Dad replied, his voice louder now. He was worried, obviously, but he was always worried. It didn't matter what I was doing, he was going to worry. Too much had happened to me in the past for him to feel at peace when I was away from him.

"I'm sorry, Dad. This isn't up for debate. I'll finish up this week and then I'm taking the first flight out. You better tell me where you are. You don't want me to just show up because you thought you could hide, 'cause I'll be  _ pissed _ ," I said as Kitty snored quietly beside me. I didn't want to leave the normalcy and friends of Xavier's Academy, but my father had his head on the chopping block. That was more important than stopping bank robbers. Dad didn't respond. "Hello?"

" _ Fine, _ " he muttered. " _ I'll have Ares come pick you up once you arrive, but think about this. Think about what you're leaving behind. _ "

I sighed quietly to myself and tapped on the computer again. My screen lit up the bulletin board behind it, which held a picture of the X-Men. Kurt and Kitty were laced together like the lovers that they were closer to the left, and Peter and I were mid-play-fight when Erik took the picture. On the right, it was obvious Logan and Victor weren't happy to have their photo taken, one of them puffing cigar smoke out of his lips while the other leaned on the wall in boredom. Xavier was in the middle, Scott and Jean on a side each, while Dr. McCoy stood beside Victor, flashing a big smile. It was one of my favorite pictures. Between Kurt and Kitty's borderline-uncomfortable PDA to Victor's classic RBF, it was a perfect representation of everyone. It made me second-guess myself.

"I will, Dad. I promise."


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, I couldn't fit everything I wanted into this chapter so y'all got one more chapter before this book ends and book two begins! hopefully book two is better than this one lol

The next morning was just like any other morning at the Academy. I woke up the moment Kitty’s alarm went off while it had to beep a few times before the valley girl even stirred. By the time she was starting to do her makeup for class, I was already dressed and going over my paper one more time. I printed it out as Kitty asked me why I stayed up so late doing it, since I always had an extra 45 minutes before class to do it, and I just told her that I didn’t like writing papers in the morning. They never turned out good. She didn’t ask me about the wedding and I secretly thanked her for it. 

I shoved my paper in my backpack and went down to the cafeteria, immediately getting hit with the strong smell of eggs and toast and bacon. Someone was always cooking a good breakfast, usually Ororo. She didn’t cook a lot, since many kids didn’t eat breakfast, but she cooked enough for the kids who did. I don’t have her class, but sometimes I wished I did, simply because she seemed like such a nice woman.

I felt a strong gust of wind and then two hands digging into my sides. I turned around and raised my eyebrow at Peter. “What are you doing?” I asked, feeling all of the stress I had been putting on myself fade as I stared into the goofy face of my best friend.

He gasped. “You’re not ticklish? What the fuck?!” he cried, staring at me in shock. I couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“No, I’m not ticklish Peter. How much did you bet that I was?” I questioned, grinning at him as his face fell in defeat and he reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet. Kurt strutted over and held out his hand

“10 dollars,” the German replied, returning the cheeky grin as Peter put a 10 in his hands. “Danke, Peter. Pleasure doing business with you.”

The speedster narrowed his eyes. “If I wasn’t starving and about to go beg Storm for scraps, I would put you back in Germany,” he warned playfully. I laughed at his threats as he ran off and watched him start bugging the woman for some food, which he got rather quickly. This was what I was going to miss the most. The playful bickering and teasing. I hadn’t known what all this felt like until recently, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to let it go. The X-Men had saved my life, in a way they could never possibly understand. Not only did they give me a place to take sanctuary, they gave me a home and friends and…  _ family.  _ Peter, Kurt, Kitty; they weren’t my friends anymore. They were so much more than that. They stuck with me through thick and thin and never doubted me.

That’s family.

What I was about to walk into wasn’t family. It was organized and illegal and made completely of formality. There was never any type of love in a mafia family. The children were broken and raised as businessmen and infamous princes that were to take over the kingdom after their parents passed. Sometimes, these same children grew up and took out their own family just for the power they held. No doubt Santino D’Antonio was the same way. He killed his own fucking sister for crying outloud.

A voice broke me from my thoughts. “Hey.”

I turned around, expecting Peter to be standing there, a tease already out of his mouth because of my pensive state, but, instead, there stood Bobby. His blond hair was spiked up a little and he was wearing some jeans, a tee shirt, and a jacket instead of basketball shorts and a workout shirt like he was when we met in Logan’s class. “Hey,” I replied. For some reason, I never expected to speak to him outside of 1st period.

The boy smiled a little at me. “I was just wondering if you wanted to walk to 1st period together,” he offered, bringing an apple up to his mouth and taking a bite. He was about halfway through it already.

“Uh… Sure. Peter can’t be late to class again,” I replied, nodding to him as I reached onto a nearby table and grabbed an apple as well. It was the best breakfast for a morning with Logan himself.

I knew that I should have probably told Bobby no. I only had a couple more days at this school and I should spend them on the grounds that I was familiar with, not getting myself into deeper shit with a pretty boy. He was pretty though with his sharp features and blond hair and bright blue eyes. God, I hadn’t seen eyes that blue in so long. Besides, he didn’t seem to be that bad of company.

“So, you’re kinda the main girl in our class. You don’t even have to pay attention and you have a perfect grade. You’re basically the only person who can do that,” Bobby started. I glanced over at him as he spoke. “Teach me your ways of getting on Logan’s good side,” he added, a grin spreading across his face.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Just the perks of being a badass,” I replied as we made our way down a nearby hallway to the class. I knew Kurt was probably still eating, since he burned so many calories every time he teleports, so I wasn’t worried about leaving him behind. He was probably ecstatic that I wasn’t there to bother him about being late like I do every morning. “What do you have in that class anyway?”

He paused, biting his lip lightly. “That’s classified.”

“Please tell me it’s passing. Come on, Logan’s tests are common sense, Bobby,” I scoffed, taking another bite of my apple. It was honestly perfect, just like most of the fruit was at this school.

“It’s passing,” he chuckled, nodding. “Most of my grades are. Except for Creed’s fucking history class. The guy forgets that we weren’t there for it like he was.”

I shrugged a little in agreement when he said this. He was right when he said that Victor’s class was hard. Most people weren’t doing too hot, even though he rarely gave homework. Everything that was on the tests was usually what he said in class, which sucked since I was in the class with Kitty and she was always talking my ear off. My grade was not something that I was proud of, but it was getting better. “No one does good in that class,” I agreed before we came to the locker rooms.

“Wanna be my partner for sparring today?” he asked before I could walk away to go get changed for class.

I clicked my tongue. “You got far with me, Bobby, but Kurt’s my sparring partner,” I replied before turning and making my way into the girl’s locker room. It was abandoned other than one other girl, but she didn’t even look at me as I started to get changed into some sweats and a tee shirt.

One perk of having the reputation of a scrapper and an outcast was that no one bothered me.

* * *

After that classes came and went. Peter and I spent the entirety of Xavier's class playing Poker, which the Professor was not at all happy about. He tried to get us to put it up once at the beginning of class, but once he realized that we weren't bothering anyone and could answer any question he threw our way, he gave up. 

Peter didn't know what to think when he won the first round.

He quickly gained his wits when I kicked his ass for the next three.

"How the hell do you keep winning?" Peter complained quietly as Xavier explained whatever chapter we were working on in Machiavelli's  _ The Prince. _ If I thought Julius Caesar was boring, this book was definitely a pushover.

"Peter, since you and Blake enjoy talking in my class, who was the inspiration for Machiavelli to write this book?" the Professor asked, raising his eyebrow at the speedster across from me.

He simply twiddled his cards in his hands as he thought for a moment. “Cesare Borgia,” he replied, smirking a little at the Headmaster. I chuckled to myself and shook my head fondly before nudging Peter to get him back in the game. Xavier simply sighed before going back to teaching, leaving us alone after that because he knew that we were probably the smartest kids in that class. I knew that we bugged him with our random fits of laughter from a move that the other pulled, but he never separated us. All he ever did was tell us to be quiet.

To this day, I don’t know why he ever kept us at the same table.

* * *

Once the school day was over, I went to Xavier and Lehnsherr’s office. Peter offered to come with me, since he thought that it was for school work, but I just told him that I needed to do this myself. I wasn’t ready for him to know yet. All of my memories with him have been full of warmth, joy, and laughter. Ever since we had met, he told me that I was the only person that really understood him. He said that I was the only person that hadn’t run away from his energy and kleptomania, and I always promised that I never would. Peter has issues; he’s going to immediately take this the wrong way. I wasn’t ready to taint his thoughts of me with betrayal yet.

I knocked on the thick wood door, glancing down at myself to make sure I didn’t look too ruffled from that game of soccer that Jean roped me into playing. My dark blue shirt was a little wrinkled, but my jeans weren’t grass stained and my boots seemed clean enough even though it was muddy outside. Honestly, I wasn’t really surprised. I ended up dodging any slide tackles that were thrown my way and didn’t really get too into the game, which no one would believe if you told them, but what was important was that I didn’t look like I just got into a fight with a mud puddle.

_ Jesus, Blake. Since when did you care how you look? _ I thought, shaking myself out of it as the door was pulled open by Magneto himself. He raised his eyebrow.

“What’s going on?” he asked. Great, he knew. Of course he did. He was an assassin when he was younger, one of the only people to escape that world and truly stay out. He remembered that we only go to authority when absolutely necessary, because authority had the tendency to turn around and stab you in the back when you got too close.

I looked up at him, refusing to answer his question immediately. “May I come in?” I asked. He nodded and let me in, to which I saw Xavier sitting behind his desk with a stack of papers. There was another chair pulled up as well and a glass of whiskey on the table, most likely from the retired assassin who accepted me into this safe haven in the first place. Putting on a brave face, I took a couple steps into the room so that Lehnsherr could shut the door behind me. “Professor, Mr. Lehnsherr, something important has come up with my father and I’m planning to move to Italy for a little while.”

“What’s going on, Blake. Is everything alright?” Xavier asked, that gentle, worried look falling onto his face. I could feel him mentally reaching out to me, an offer that I had no inclination to take, but I did sit down across from him when he motioned for me to.

“Yes, sir, everything is fine. My father is getting married to a… prominent man from Italy. I think that my presence is required there,” I replied. There was no reason for me to be as formal as I was around the Professor and Erik, since they had both seen me at my worst. Hell, they were leading the search party that found me bleeding out in a warehouse, but formality isn’t something that you can just forget. Not when it’s been bred into you like it was in me. “I don’t know how long I’ll be there.”

The Professor glanced at Erik before locking his fingers together on the desk. “First of all, please give my congratulations to your father when you see him. Second, I refuse to let you omit yourself from the school. I will have your teachers email you the work that you miss, and give you a bit of leniency with due dates. You are part of this family, Blake, no matter where you end up.” He offered his hand for me to take and I did so hesitantly. Immediately, I was rushed with a feeling of warmth, love, and a fierce protectiveness. The Professor would do anything to make sure that I didn’t have to suffer anymore than I already had, but he couldn’t stop what was coming. He knew this, and it tore him apart, but he respected my decision.

"Thank you, Professor," I said, shaking his hand for a second before letting go. "My father has agreed to let me finish the week before I fly out."

Erik leaned back in his chair. "Do your friends know?" He asked, giving me a blank stare that I knew was supposed to fill me with guilt. It worked.

"No, sir," I sighed softly. "I'm going to tell them today after training."

The Professor nodded when he heard this and wheeled over to me, taking my hand once more. This time, he was much closer than I was comfortable with, but I guessed that it was probably his plan. "Blake," he said gently, meeting my eyes. "I don't know the severity of what may be going on. Erik told me about your father's… occupation, but no one knows it better than you. I can't stop you from doing this, but I need you to remember that the X-Men are your family as well. They will miss you so very much, as will I. It's been an honor to have you on the team."

It took everything in me to blink back the tears. "Thank you, Professor. The honor is mine."


End file.
